Anywhere
by ChristineFury
Summary: Loghain Mac Tir is given a chance to redeem himself as a hero- not just for Ferelden, but for a Warden who once saw him as a hero during her childhood. Will both of them slip into madness as a result? M for cursing/violence/sexual content
1. Prologue: The First Landsmeet

It really wasn't the place for a girl her age; most twelve year old girls were interested in dresses and fine silks, not politics and talks of fighting Darkspawn. Young daughters of Arls, Teyrns and Banns liked spending time in their mothers' salons or with their friends, laughing and talking of future courtships, finery, sampling perfumes and exchanging meaningless rumors- a room filled with the excited, sometimes angry, speech of politicians and generals, talks of the economy, and political events were not the entertainment of a young woman.

Sabia Cousland was not like an average young noble, however. Dressed simply, but elegantly in a slim dark silk dress, her ruby red tresses swept up, stubborn curls framing her face, her eyes glittering in excitement, she listened to the conversations with eager eyes, never leaving her father's side, almost part of his shadow. Her eyes flicked from one leader to the next, admiring fine armor, impressive weapons, and biting her lip, trying to suppress the flush that threatened to cover her cheeks as she saw a few war heroes, some of them her idols. Bryce Cousland smiled at his daughter warmly before turning his attention back to Bann Loren. Sabia offered a small curtsey and smile to the friend of her father before casting her eyes around the room again, her ears straining to catch it all. A comment about Darkspawn caught her attention, and she focused on it intently.

"The Darkspawn seem to be a small problem now. The Chasind, however, may turn out not to be," said a rich baritone voice, a stately figure coming into the room in accompaniment with it.

Sabia's breath caught in her throat and she bit her index finger to suppress the unladylike squeak that threatened to erupt from her throat. She hid behind her father, her face redder than the uncontrollable curls of hair that she now frantically tried to tuck behind her burning ears as Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir strode into the room with all the grace and pride of the veteran hero he was. Bryce glanced down and behind him, saw her expression and bit back a warm chuckle, earning a look of mortified exasperation that only a young teenager could make. He said nothing more and turned his attention to the Teryn, nodding respectfully at him.

"The Chasind are causing trouble again, I assume?" Bryce asked, looking a bit perturbed at this news- Gwaren was closer to the Kocari Wilds, but the Chasind kept to themselves for the most part. Loghain turned and nodded at Bryce, his brow furrowing.

"Yes. A few of my scouts caught wind of an apostate, and chased them into the woods to turn over to the Chantry templars... they were ambushed by what I can only assume is a group of Chasind. I won't stand for those barbarians attacking my men on my own land," he said, his voice set with a harsh edge. Bryce nodded in understanding.

"I'd do the same, were my family threatened. Your Anora plays near those woods, does she not?" He asked. Loghain gave a curt nod, folding his arms over his chest with a clanking of his shining armor.

"She doesn't play outside as much, as she's grown from liking pants and mud to dresses and reading, but I won't have barbarians near my home."

His eyes flicked to the glimmer of red behind the other Teyrn.

"Now who is this, Bryce?"

Bryce chuckled and stepped aside to reveal Sabia, who still stood with her back to the both of them- trying to regain her composure. She stiffened as she felt her father move, and she turned in a swift fluid movement, instantly sinking into a curtsey, her eyes fixated on Loghain's plated feet. Bryce chuckled again.

"Loghain, I don't believe you've met my youngest- this is my daughter, Sabia," he said proudly. "She's fond of talks of war and politics, so I decided to take her to the Landsmeet to give her a taste of what she may inherit one day."

Loghain looked at Bryce, lifting a brow.

"Didn't you say your son was to become Teyrn?" He asked. Bryce nodded.

"He is, but I doubt my Sabia here will be content with being merely the little sister of a Teyyn her whole life. S'that right, pup?" He asked, smiling at his daughter.

Sabia straightened, looking everywhere but Loghain's face, her expression a mix of eagerness and flustered excitement.

"Yes, Father! I want to be part of the King's army- a lieutenant, or even a general, defending Ferelden," She said evenly, but her voice shook slightly. She cleared her throat, then put on the coy courtier's mask her mother had taught her, risking a glance at Loghain.

"Though, if Fergus doesn't...WANT to be Teyrn...I would not be adverse to being Teyrna, Father, when you tire of your post," she added, her voice sweet to cover her sly, playful tone.

Bryce and Loghain both gave a hearty laugh, and Sabia felt her heart skip a few beats as Loghain's steely blue eyes sparkled with approval at her, his handsome stern face bright with his smile. He took her hand and kissed the back of it politely

"Pleased to meet you, Lady Cousland. I dare say you're every bit the spitfire your mother is," he said. Sabia flushed and repressed the urge to clutch her hand to her chest as he released it, curtseying again.

"I am honored to meet you, Teyrn Mac Tir," she said. "Father told me so much about you and the good things you did for Ferelden."

"Practically idolizes you, she does," Bryce said, and Sabia looked mortified- how could her father embarrass her like that in front of the Hero of River Dane? She wanted to melt into the floor or flee the room. Loghain either was used to such commentary, or noticed the young girl's embarrassment, and did not respond directly to the comment.

"Hopefully not as much as Cailan idolizes the Grey Wardens and legends, I should hope. Heroes, legends and idols aren't perfect and can disappoint you," he replied, his tone becoming dry. Sabia bit her lip- she immediately had wanted to assure him she didn't, but she sensed another type of social trap, and kept quiet, her hand moving to the breast of her gown, under which her new pendant rested. Bryce sensed it, too, and smiled evenly.

"She knows whom to truly listen to, and that's herself and the Maker," Bryce replied, putting his warm strong hand on her shoulder. Sabia nodded, chancing another look up at Loghain, widening her smile from a small demure expression to a genuine warm smile. Loghain returned the gesture, and she felt her stomach bottom out.

"Who else would raise their children with such level heads, Bryce? You and Eleanor have fine children, and they do you proud," Loghain said.

"For now, at least, until they become teenagers and become rebellious!" Bryce laughed. Loghain shook his head, laughing in agreement.

"True enough, Bryce. True enough, but we never want the pups to grow up, do we?" He looked at Sabia, and she knew he was comparing her to, or thinking of his own daughter- either way, she didn't mind the attention from her favorite hero.

"They'll always be little ones with pigtails and skinned knees, summer flowers in their hair and dolls clutched in their arms."

Sabia cocked her head politely, a bit taken aback by the tender sentiment- one her father agreed with, as he put his hand on her shoulder. Loghain motioned to Bryce.

"Come, then. We'll talk of this later. The other Arls are arriving." He turned his piercing gaze on Sabia. "This Landsmeet will be rather boring, I'm afraid. I hope the next one you go to will be much more exciting."

Sabia felt a sense of foreboding, and she gave Loghain a small smile.

"Not TOO exciting, I should hope, your Grace. An exciting Landsmeet means trouble for Ferelden, doesn't it?"

Loghain gave her a wry look, sizing her up, then laughed.

"No, you're right. Let's just hope there's more than talk of simple barbarians at the next Landsmeet you attend."


	2. Prologue II: Holidays at Highever

The snow was falling. It blanketed the castle, dusted the trees, and powdered the grounds in a soft layer of sugary white. The clear night skies preceding the snowfall made Highever a most picturesque scene indeed for the winter holiday. Cousland's men were merry and in bright spirits, the servants hummed to themselves as they did their work, and the guests that slowly trickled in for the holidays were greeted with roaring fires, contented chatter, and the constant smell of holiday spices wafting from the kitchen. Even though she had been worried about the fact that Teyrn Loghain and his daughter Anora- whom Sabia was expected to entertain and keep company- were coming to stay at Highever for the holiday, her nervous gut couldn't dampen her mood as she sparred with Fergus, trying to assuage her worry.

It wasn't that she didn't like Anora- she was intelligent and not as obsessed with fashion and material things like other noble girls, and they got along well enough- but she was nervous and excited about seeing the Teyrn of Gwaren again, and was afraid of looking a fool. For now, she took her nerves out on her brother in sparring matches. The soldiers laughed as she spun on her toes, leaning out of the way of Fergus' swing, then used her own fluid movement, and his clumsy momentum, to swing her swords at him, hitting him squarely on the rump and sending him falling face-first into a snowbank. With a bright bark of laughter, she flicked her wrists, her swords flashing. He rolled onto his back, his face red from good natured embarrassment, the cold and amusement. Sabia laughed in return, still keeping her balance, should he get up to strike again. He got to his knees, laughing and brushing the snow from his pants.

"Mercy, sister! Mercy!," he said, breathless with mirth as he wiped snow- and tears of laughter- from his eyes. Sabia giggled again and reached out to help him to his feet. He smiled at her sheepishly.

"This won't do at all, will it, sister? Ten years my junior and you have me beat at every turn!" He said, sheathing his sword and replacing his shield. Sabia snickered and sheathed her own weapons, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to hug him.

"Age has nothing to do with it...but it is hardly my fault you are becoming an old man!" She teased, dancing out of reach as he snarled playfully and made to grind his knuckles against her scalp.

Bryce and Eleanor came to the courtyard, watching with laughing eyes as Fergus chased Sabia in the snow, shouting playful threats, receiving light hearted taunts and blown raspberries. Bryce shook his head, smiling, and Eleanor wrapped an arm about his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder, her sharp eyes watching the antics. Normally, with such company that was expected at any time now, they would have told their rambunctious children to calm themselves, but the holiday didn't leave much room to be TOO formal- until the snowballs began to fly between the siblings that now darted between trees and fleeing guardsmen. Bryce opened his mouth to suggest they save their scuffle for later, as their guests were about to arrive, but was interrupted as a snowball flew astray from the intended target- Sabia's shoulder- and hit him in the forehead. The Couslands were quiet- the siblings staring at each other in horror, and Eleanor blinking as snow fell from Bryce's forehead. Bryce was silent, pulling the snow from his hair. Sabia and Fergus moved to their father without him having to say a word. Bryce looked at his children, his expression unreadable.

"Well. I think we all know what this means," He said quietly. Sabia and Fergus exchanged a worried look, wondering if this meant the holiday was going to go from wonderful to terse.

Quick as a greased fox, Bryce slipped from his wife's touch and scooped up a snowball, pelting it straight into his son's face. Fergus reeled back in shock, falling into the snow on his rump. Shaking the snow from his eyes, he looked up at his father, who was packing another snowball, a grin on his face. Sabia let loose a crow of laughter, and darted behind a tree as Bryce aimed for her. With his target no longer in his line of sight, Bryce flung the frozen projectile at his still stunned son, who fell back, laughing.

"Not fair, Father!" He protested loudly.

Sabia slunk behind the hedges, her hands full of snow and a wicked grin on her face as she made her way closer to assault her father, taking advantage of her father pelting her exposed brother. A shadow fell over her, and she whirled around- just in time to see her mother's wicked grin right before getting a face full of snow. She let out a shriek of laughter, falling into the hedges, dropping her ammunition. Eleanor, slick as ever, darted away, missing a snowball thrown by her husband. By this time, Bryce had darted behind a tree, and Fergus had taken cover. Sabia stifled a giggle and grabbed another handful of snow, packing it into a nice large sphere. She looked around, her ears listening for any sounds of her family members- who had all darted under cover. She caught the sound of armor clinking, and she grinned wickedly, her teeth flashing wolfishly.

"Dear brother, you're too loud...you LEFT YOURSELF OPEN!" She declared gleefully, leaping out of the hedges and flinging her frozen weapon.

Right into the face of Teyrn Loghain.

Sabia shrieked, her face going deathly pale, and her knees nearly gave out beneath her- it was her desire to flee right then that gave her limbs the strength to support her. She pulled her handkerchief from under her leather breastplate and made to hand the cloth to the Teyrn, stammering her apologies over and over, her voice shaking. He took the cloth from her and wiped his face clean of snow, revealing a rather amused and surprised expression. Sabia blinked, still pale, not sure what to make of the situation. He laughed heartily, his eyes falling on the snow dusted Bryce, and Fergus, who was now soaked. He laughed even harder as Eleanor came into view from behind a tree, snowballs clutched in either hand.

"Did I interrupt family war games, Bryce?" He asked in amusement. Bryce cracked a wry smile at Loghain and made his way over, extending his hand. Loghain shook it animatedly, looking at Sabia and Fergus with interest. Sabia bit her lip.

"Please forgive me, your Grace," she stammered. "I...I thought you were Fergus."

Loghain chuckled, waving his hand dismissively.

"Don't trouble yourself over it, Lady Cousland. Serves me right, making myself a walking target in the middle of a battlefield. You'd think I'd know better!"

Bryce and Eleanor laughed, but Sabia was mortified that she'd pelted her hero in the face with a snowball. Loghain glanced at the weapons at her hips, and the sword and shield on Fergus' back.

"I take it a bit of sparring led to the match being decided by snowballs?" He asked, his mouth curling in a smile. Fergus laughed, looking embarrassed.

"No, your Grace, the match was already decided. I've yet to be able to beat my dear little sister when she has those weapons in her hand. Snowballs were how I defended my honor as a man," he joked, but Loghain was eyeing Sabia with a new expression.

"Good with swords, are you?"

Sabia nodded quietly, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, her face red. Loghain held out his hand, eyes on her longsword main hand. Without a word or second thought, she handed it to him. He hefted it in his hand, testing the weight and balance of the blade, making a few experimental swings with it. Sabia got a sense of foreboding as he continued looking at the blade- his eyes were looking at the blade, yet they weren't. Without even thinking, she began settling her weight to her center of balance, tensing her thighs slightly and relaxing her back- assuming her stance for dueling.

Without warning, Loghain struck at her with the longsword, his blow fast and hard. Eleanor and Bryce made a sound of protest, but Sabia ignored them. Her hand flew to her offhand weapon, drawing it and bringing it up to meet the sword with a spray of sparks. The force of his blow pushed her back, but she relaxed her torso further, letting his momentum carry him forward and push her back, upsetting his center of balance as she tucked her legs under her, coiling her relaxed spine and rolling away. He stumbled forward, catching himself almost immediately and recovering gracefully, turning on his toes quickly to face her, the sword still held at the ready, but his face was that of surprise. Eleanor and Bryce seemed a bit unhappy that the Teyrn had simply swung at their daughter, but there was relief and pride on their faces as they watched their daughter hold her own. Fergus beamed.

"That's the little sister for you, your Grace. She's damned good with a sword," he said proudly.

Loghain ignored the comment and went after her again, using both hands to swing the sword. Sabia made the tiniest sound as she barely managed to dodge his hammering blow by feinting to the left, then sliding rightwards. She watched as he brought the sword to the ready again, his steely blue eyes unreadable, staring at nothing, but seeing everything. He moved to a fighting stance, and Sabia noticed how he moved his weight slightly to his right leg. She narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to strike. He lunged, and she moved to do a sliding dive- right between his spread legs to move herself behind him. Loghain knew her plan, however, and caught her around the waist with his left leg, sending her crashing to the ground on her back. She cursed to herself- he'd braced his weight so he could attack with his left and fling her to the ground. She wanted to pound the ground with her fists in anger at herself for not seeing his plan, and that she had given herself away by narrowing her eyes. She kept her composure, however, and held up her hands as the point of the longsword was pointed at her throat a split second later. She panted, her chest heaving, but her eyes sparkled with adrenaline and the joy of finally sparring with someone that was more than a match for her. Loghain smiled, but it looked more like a smirk.

"I yield, your Grace," she said softly, her eyes not moving from his. He let out a grunt of laughter, withdrew the weapon and moved to give her a hand up. She took his hand and let him pull her easily and gently to her feet. He moved to hand her her weapon back, but blinked. Both swords were cracked.

"I apologize, mi'lady. I didn't realize I would break your weapons," he said, looking guilty, like a child who had broken another's favorite toy. Bryce laughed, his shock at the Teyrn swinging at his daughter gone.

"No need to worry, Loghain. She breaks her sparring weapons all the time. Perhaps we should invest in silverite instead of the fragile grey steel, mm?" He said, giving Sabia a look. Sabia's eyes went wide, and she turned to look at her father in excitement.

"Silverite? Truly, Father?" She asked, her voice threatening to pitch into a squeal. The men laughed, and Eleanor sighed good naturedly.

"I had hoped for a daughter...I get one, and she is hardly a proper young lady. Swords and daggers and sparring, instead of dresses and tea and perfume!" She said in exasperation, but her eyes sparkled with love and amusement- it was an old running tease between mother and daughter. Loghain missed the affection though, and made a curt grunt of disagreement.

"It's good the girl knows how to handle a weapon. An Orlesian wouldn't have the decency to ask a woman if she could defend herself before attacking her," he said, his tone no longer easy going, and a dark shadow veiled his eyes. Bryce cleared his throat.

"And that's why my darling daughter knows her way with a sword. Isn't that right, pup?"

Sabia nodded, pushing her sodden wet curls off her neck, her cheeks flushed with delight and adrenaline. Eleanor motioned them to the door.

"Come, let's all get dried off and have a glass of mulled wine before supper," she said, earning the agreeable nods from everyone.

**...**

Sabia trudged into her room after arguing with her mother, who had insisted she dress in a gown for dinner. Sighing, she pulled off her armor and laid it out on the hearth before the fire to dry. She rummaged through her armoire, trying to find a dress that wasn't too extravagant or overly revealing, but it seemed her mother had known she would pick a modest, non flattering gown, and all of her simple favorite dresses were missing. She sighed and picked the plainest and most modest of the remaining gowns, scowling, because it was still fancy and revealing, cut from a deep emerald green silk, trimmed in black and gold brocade satin, and a plunging neckline that accompanied sleeves that would fall off her shoulders. A knock sounded at her door, and she hesitated.

"Who's there?" She asked.

"It's Anora. Might I come in, Sabia? I thought we'd arrive at dinner together," came the muffled reply from Loghain's daughter. Sabia hesitated again, looking at the muslin cloth that bound her chest and held the padding against her waist, then sighed.

"Yes, please, Anora."

Anora came into the room quietly, shutting the door. She blinked as she took in the sight of Sabia in her small clothes, her chest bound and her waist padded with a thick layer of wool, held in place by muslin cloth. Sabia scowled, but her wrath was the anger of an exasperated twenty year old woman, not annoyance at Anora's intrusion. Anora tilted her head, her golden braids- which were coiffed perfectly at the back of her head- catching the light of the fireplace. Her expression was confused.

"Sabia...Why are you wearing that... get up?" She asked after a few moments of awkward silence. Sabia said nothing, sliding the dress over her head and struggling to get her arms through the sleeves. Anora came over and tried to help, but the padding around Sabia's waist hindered the dress from going further.

"You'll have to take that wool padding off, Sabia. The dress won't fit otherwise," Anora said, lifting a brow at her companion's stubbornness.

Sabia sighed in defeat and unwrapped the muslin that held the wool around her waist. As it fell to the floor and the dress slid over Sabia's body, Anora blinked at the sudden appearance of a slender waist that had previously looked androgynous, and she lifted a brow at the loose fitting chest of Sabia's gown.

"Why on earth do you wear that, Sabia?" She asked, perplexed. Sabia reached back to fasten the hooks, and gave the other woman an imploring gaze. Anora sighed and moved to help Sabia lace up her bodice, trying to make the dress look presentable on the front, but it was rather hopeless- the silk looked as though it had deflated sadly on her front.

"It can't be salvaged, Sabia. It's too loose. You need to take the cloth off."

Sabia pressed her forehead against the post of her bed, clenching her fists and closing her eyes. She was silent for a moment, then pushed the loose chest of her dress down, removing the muslin cloth from her torso. Keeping her back to Anora, she moved to pull her shift and stays from her dresser and quickly put them on, sliding the top of the dress up. She was still as Anora helped her finish lacing up her back, then turned to face her companion, who blinked. Lady Cousland had gone from being slightly boyish, with a sturdy torso and modest chest to curvaceous, with a generous bosom and a supple waist curving out to wide hips. The curves were accentuated by the silks of her dress, and the red of her embarrassed flush were exaggerated by the dark green.

"Sabia...you..."

"Grew up and got my mother's figure. I know," Sabia replied testily. "I wear the padding and the muslin cloth because I don't want to be seen as an object of desire, or to lessen my respect I get from my father's men."

She continued as Anora opened her mouth to protest.

"Don't say that it wouldn't. You know all too well that curves can make a man's mind go blank, and become his focus. A man will toss aside all knowledge of a woman's intelligence and skill in favor of letting his gaze linger on her hips."

Anora sighed- Sabia was right, but she didn't understand it. She was not in court where she had to garner respect from nobles- she was the daughter of a Teyrn, and respect was a given. Sabia was eyeing Anora enviously.

"You're lucky. You are promised to Cailan, and the daughter of the Hero of River Dane," she said, her voice going soft as she mentioned the Teyrn. "Because of that, you are beloved and even though you have those curves and beauty, you are still listened to, and respected. If I showed up to spar without my padding and chest bound, my father's men would go easy on me, would treat me delicately, when all I want is to improve and hone my skill."

She tightened her mouth, her eyes glinting.

"Never mind that Rendon Howe would push even harder for an arrangement between me and his deplorable son, Nathaniel. Calling that hideous, horrible man Father? Maker help me, I'd rather become a cloistered Sister!"

She shuddered, and Anora stifled a laugh.

"On that, I do not blame you, but Arl Howe is not here, and it is just your family, and my father and myself. Surely you can be yourself around us?" She asked gently, putting a hand on Sabia's bare shoulder. Sabia flushed again.

"I don't wear dresses like this very often," she said, slipping her feet into flat green satin slippers, forgoing the shoes with heels- she was going to be a klutz enough in the dress as it was, no need to add to the already high chances of her falling on her face. "I most likely will fall on my face and embarrass myself even further in front of your father."

Anora cocked her head.

"Even further? What do you- Oh! You mean the sparring?" She asked, her eyebrows raised. Sabia nodded, rubbing at the tender spot on her waist where Loghain had hooked his leg- a tender spot a bruise would surely form overnight. Anora smiled gently.

"Don't think of that as an embarrassment. Father told me of that. The fact that you were able to hold your own the first few moves impressed him greatly. My father is also a general, and a well seasoned veteran, Sabia. No need to be ashamed of being beaten by a man who has held a sword longer than you've lived."

Sabia laughed a bit at that as Anora made a stab at her father's age, picking up her brush and combing out her stubborn hair. The coppery red tresses fell to her shoulders in careless waves that ended in tight curls. She swept the thick mane of hair over one shoulder, letting it rest against her slender throat. She sighed, but it wasn't as dejected as her earlier sighs had been- it was steeped in disappointment.

"It's not that I was beaten, it's that I got cocky and made a foolish mistake. Had I not been arrogant, I might have held out a few more moves. In any case, it was an honor, and a thrill. I haven't had a challenge like that in a long time. I guess I also deserved it for hitting him in the face with a snowball," she said, her cheeks flaming painfully again. Anora laughed gaily.

"He told me about that, and he seemed very amused by it- I only wish I had seen it myself- the hero of River Dane hit squarely in the face by a snowball!" Anora said, her eyes twinkling in mischief as she eyed Sabia's flushing cheeks. Sabia cursed to herself. She wished she could stop blushing- it seemed it was all she did whenever the Teyrn was around- be it physically or in conversation. Anora nodded knowingly to herself, but she couldn't help it.

"You...you fancy my father, don't you?" She blurted, grinning. Sabia gave a small squeal of horror and flung her brush as she flailed her arms, turning her back to Anora, sputtering.

"I...NO! Your father is just...he's a very important man...and...h-he is a very g-great hero! He's old enough to b-be my father! I d-don't FANCY him, I just admire h-his strength and w-what he's d-done for Ferelden, that's all!" She protested, wanting to lock herself in the washroom or to fling herself from the nearest window. Anora laughed again, but it was gentle, and she said nothing more on the subject. She held out her arm.

"Shall we make a glorious entrance, then, Lady Cousland?" She asked, pride coloring her voice.

Sabia took her arm, and looked at the pair of them in the mirror. Anora was right- they would make an entrance, alright. The two of them were different as night and day- Anora in her pale pink gown that was almost scandalously revealing and flowing, trimmed in silver and white satin, her golden hair, beautifully milky cheeks and pale blue eyes gleaming, and Sabia in her almost modest dark green dress, her dark hair loose, cheeks ruddy and green eyes bright. Anora looked in the mirror as well, and made a face of approval that made Sabia think of a canary-eating cat, a small sound of satisfaction coming from her throat.

"Come, Sabia. Let's not keep the Teyrns waiting."

They made their way to the dining hall, and what servants that weren't assisting with dinner stopped to stare- Sabia had made a habit of concealing her figure since she had started growing into it, so she imagined it was a shock to the servants that she was indeed a woman under her armor. Having the daughter of the Teyrn of Gwaren, Prince Cailan's betrothed, at her side didn't help, either. Anora was a stunning woman, and though Sabia had been jealous of Anora's golden hair, blue eyes so like her father's, and the elegant way she carried herself , Sabia was glad Anora was there to outshine her and attract attention away from her.

A servant opened the door for them, and Sabia was relieved to see that is was just her parents, Fergus, and Teyrn Loghain. Apparently tonight was a small dinner, without the presence of the visiting Arls and Banns. Eleanor made a small sigh of contentment as she looked at Sabia's dress and loose hair. Bryce blinked, as did Fergus upon seeing Sabia's changed figure. Bryce recovered quickly enough, and he ignored it, ever the doting father that didn't want to acknowledge his youngest pup was grown. Fergus stared a few minutes more, then purposely hid his face behind his wine glass. Loghain had no reaction, save for a slightly lifted eyebrow before setting expression back to a neutral one. Sabia looked everywhere but at the seat to her father's left, not wanting to meet the Teyrn's eyes. Anora steered Sabia to the end of the table, sitting next to her father. Sabia sat next to her quietly, her skirts making a soft hushing sound as they swirled about her legs. She struggled not to squirm- she hated wearing dresses. Eleanor beamed at the two, and Bryce smiled as well.

"Such a beautiful pair of young women. I am surprised you didn't bring a trail of helplessly enthralled young men in your wake," Bryce chuckled. Fergus laughed for Sabia's benefit.

"They didn't dare follow for fear of being beaten mercilessly by Sabie's blade. Isn't that right, sister?" He asked slyly. Sabia gave him a grateful smile and returned the laugh, hoping it didn't sound too forced.

"Of course. Provided they didn't witness my utter defeat earlier in the courtyard at the hands of the hero who was more than a match for my meager skills," she said sweetly. She didn't know why she said it, the words honeyed and aimed at the Teyrn. Was it the confidence of being called beautiful, having Anora at her side, or was it her trying to make up for pelting the Teyrn with a snowball? She wasn't sure, but the words slid from her lips like an arrow from a bow. Regardless of the motive, they had the desired effect. Loghain laughed, turning that overwhelmingly piercing gaze on her.

"Your skills are far from meager, Lady Cousland. Another year or so of training, and you could be a prize fighter. Good enough to be a lieutenant or a commander, I dare say," he said bluntly. Eleanor rubbed her temple, sighing.

"Your Grace, I beg you not to give her any ideas!" She said, huffing. Loghain looked at the Teyrna, his expression amused.

"And why not? Women can fight just as well as any man," he said, and Sabia felt a flush of pride and pleasure in her chest at his words. Bryce nodded in agreement, but he frowned in annoyance.

"Better to have her be a soldier where we understand what we fight, rather than something else," he said darkly. The occupants of the table turned to look at Bryce curiously, Fergus pausing in the middle of cutting a piece of boar, Anora with a napkin to her chin, Sabia pausing with her fork halfway to her mouth. Even Loghain stopped, his wine glass near his lips, lifting a brow. Bryce scowled.

"Duncan said he was coming to visit next time he came near Highever," he said, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes focused on Sabia, causing her to wonder why his attention was focused on her as he made the statement. Loghain's lean face darkened, his mouth twisting in a scowl.

"Grey Wardens. I don't see why Maric trusts them so damned much. They have their own agenda. Don't tell me he's got an eye on someone at the castle?" He asked, his tone dangerous. Bryce shook his head.

"Not that I know of. Duncan knows better than to impose by trying to recruit Fergus, and he hasn't met Sabia. I won't let my youngest become a Grey Warden," he said vehemently.

Loghain made a grunt of approval and went back to drinking his wine. Anora and Sabia exchanged glances and went back to eating quietly. Fergus rolled his shoulder a bit and changed the subject to the matter of weapons, nudging it towards the persuasion of getting both himself and Sabia new silverite weapons for fighting. Sabia jumped into the conversation eagerly, and the subject slowly went to tactics, both one-on-one combat and war strategies. Anora and Eleanor were quiet, listening politely, taking in what they heard out of necessity- intelligent women in Ferelden never turned down the opportunity to listen to combat tactics when many still feared Orlesian intrusion. Loghain and Bryce contributed the most to the conversation, but the points that Fergus and Sabia interjected brought a few moments of excited debate between them all.

After the last of dessert had been eaten and the mulled wine was nothing more than a red stain in the glasses, Anora and Eleanor stood and excused themselves for the evening. Anora looked at Sabia inquisitively, as though asking if she would come with her. Fergus made a pleading face, as they were still discussing the challenges of marksmanship from horseback. Sabia bit her lip and smiled sheepishly at Anora.

"If you don't mind, Anora, I'd like to stay and continue this talk," she said, crinkling her brow in apology. Anora laughed and patted her shoulder.

"Not to worry. I will get enough beauty sleep for the both of us then," she teased. Sabia laughed in return.

"Like you need it, my Lady," she said. Anora smiled knowingly and after kissing her father's cheek as a good night, she swept from the room like a princess. Loghain shook his head.

"Not even formally engaged to Cailan and she's already got the presence of a Queen," he said. Sabia couldn't tell if he was proud or sad by his tone. Bryce looked at Sabia carefully.

"Sabia, I think maybe you should go to bed, my dear."

Sabia blinked and set down her glass of water.

"Father, I was hoping to continue the talk of archery and hunting, if I might?" She asked hopefully. Bryce reached over and patted her hand.

"I have matters to discuss with Loghain. Fergus will be heading off to bed, too, I should think," he said, giving Fergus a look, who groaned, but got up, bowing to Loghain and his father.

"As you wish, Father. Good evening, Teyrn Mac Tir," he said before leaving the room. Sabia sighed, but kissed her father's cheek, then swept into a deep curtsy, bowing her head at Loghain.

"Have a good evening and sleep well, mi'lord," she said. Loghain inclined his head at her, the corner of his mouth curling slightly in a smile.

"Perhaps the next time we duel, you might show me your odd stance, Lady Cousland," he said evenly. Sabia nearly stumbled as she straightened up, his words taking her by surprise. She recovered quickly enough, and nodded.

"I would be honored, mi'lord," she said softly. His smile widened a bit more.

"Maybe even this old man can learn a thing or two from you," he said, earning a laugh from Bryce, who shook his head.

"Careful, Loghain. Give my girl an idea and two swords, and she's as dangerous as an Antivan woman," he said, affection coloring his voice. Loghain looked her over, and she tried very hard not to flush, but it crept up painfully on her neck anyway.

"Is that why Howe is having to try so hard, then?" He asked, cynicism coloring his voice. Sabia set her mouth in a firm line, keeping quiet, but making her opinion of Howe and his son perfectly clear, making Loghain burst into laughter.

"And there you have it. There's a lady who knows what she doesn't want!" He said in amusement, causing Sabia to relax a bit. Bryce sighed with weary affection at his daughter.

"Finding a match for this one will be harder than killing a dragon single-handedly, I'm afraid."

Sabia tossed her head in mock indignation.

"I don't NEED to be married, Father. I can join the military."

"Anything's better than joining the Grey Wardens," Loghain said. Sabia cocked her head. Again with his opposition of the Grey Wardens. She wondered at it, but she said nothing.

"Anything's better than having to call Howe my father-in-law," she said acidly, folding her arms over her chest. "With that, I bid you goodnight."

She swept from the room in a whisper of silk, leaving her father and Loghain in bemused silence. Loghain let out a loud bark of laughter at her audacity and at imagining the look on Rendon's face if he'd been there to hear that remark- he would have paid fifty sovereigns to see that.

"You're girl's got a mind of her own, that's for sure," he remarked. Bryce winced.

"It's going to get her in trouble one day," he replied softly, worry in his voice. Loghain didn't want to agree, but after thinking about Howe's...simpering and manipulative nature, he realized Bryce was right, and he nodded.

"Well, just keep her sharp tongue away from Howe, and she should be fine. I honestly do hope to spar with her again. She's got promise as a fighter," he said, stroking his chin in thought. Bryce nodded, his mouth pursed in pride.

"That she does," he said proudly. "All she needs is a a few more years of training." Loghain poured some wine in his glass and took a long drink of it, leaning back in his chair.

"The girl might even be good enough to have me yielding one day."


	3. 1: He didn't save her

Sabia ran through the tunnel, Duncan following closely behind her. Avariel bounded at her side, his ears pricked forward, his muzzle curled in a snarl, looking to protect his mistress. Tears stung her eyes, rolling freely down her cheeks. Her parents. They would surely be dead by now, and Howe's men would be looking for her desperately. A wail threatened to escape her throat, and she fell to her knees. Avariel moved to her side, leaning close to let his mistress rest her weight against his warm furry flanks. She buried her face in his fur and cried.

Everything was going wrong. Her family dead, her little nephew, so eager to learn from her, slain in cold blood with his mother. Her parents killed in the name of treachery by a greedy, foul arl. Her dreams were ended before they even begun. She had so many expectations- joining the military as a knight for Highever, or Gwaren. She wanted to be a lieutenant, a commander. She wanted to be at the side of the Teyrns and Arls when war broke out. She wanted to be able to fight, but still come home to a husband, maybe even children.

There would be none of that now, now that she was to become a Grey Warden. Tainted with darkspawn blood, she wouldn't be able to have children. No man would ever marry her. She would die in the Deep Roads, fighting monsters with her last breath. Her hopes for a normal life were gone, dead and cooling on the stone floor of the pantry with the blood of her parents. She didn't even know if Fergus wouldn't be killed at Ostagar by assassins sent by Howe.

Duncan gave her only a moment to hug her mabari before scooping her up in his arms and continuing to flee. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. She hated this man for making her father promise her life to him, but now, he was the only thing she had left. He was the only one helping her. She clung to him through her flood of tears. He was quiet as he neared the end of the tunnel, letting her cry. He said nothing as he whistled, two horses running up to him, a dappled grey gelding and a chestnut mare. Sabia was quiet, tears silently rolling down her ruddy cheeks as he helped her onto the mare. Avariel stood at attention, bounding behind them as Duncan urged his gelding into a gallop. The horses snorted eagerly, ready to run. Sabia looked over her shoulder at her home as it retreated into the distance. She couldn't stop thinking about how she would never see it again.

Over the week, as they made their way to Ostagar, only one thought whirled in her head: How to avoid this fate that had been chosen for her. How to escape. She thought of simply running away, but she didn't have proper supplies, and while she was a good fighter, there was no doubt in her mind that Howe would have men searching for her. Without help and supplies, she would surely be caught and killed. No, the best thing was to get to Ostagar. Where King Cailan's men were. Where Loghain's men were. That realization made her head snap up in revelation during a hasty meal eaten on horseback. Duncan looked at her in concern.

"Are you alright, Lady Cousland?" He asked, his brow furrowed as he swallowed a mouthful of dried meat. Sabia forced a small smile.

"Just tired, is all. Almost nodded off on Bridget's back."

She rubbed the mare's neck, who whickered happily, bobbing her head. She'd grown fond of the frisky horse over the past few days, and would be sorry to see her go. Duncan nodded and turned his sharp vigilant eyes back to the road ahead, leaving Sabia to think about her options. If she could get to him before actually joining the Wardens, she might have a chance. Surely Loghain would be willing to talk to King Cailan. Surely as the king's confidante, he could talk the king into having her released from the Warden's charge and under the banner of Gwaren. Surely Loghain, with all of his distrust of the Wardens, and his daughter's friendship with her, would be enough to have her released.

'Loghain can save me from this. I WILL have a shot at my dreams again,' she thought fiercely. 'Loghain will save me.'

The thought became a mantra that she repeated over and over, and it kept her from wanting to strangle Duncan every time he smiled at her.

**..**

The ruins of Ostagar came into view, and Sabia's breath caught in her throat. This was it. She and Duncan dismounted at the gates, soldiers coming to take their horses. Sabia patted Bridget's nose sadly, wondering if she'd ever see the playful horse again. Oblivious as only a horse could be, Bridget nipped at Sabia's shirt, making a playful sound. Sabia sighed as she was led away by Duncan. Almost instantly, a golden haired man in golden and silverite armor came striding up to them.

"There you are, Duncan!" The young man said, his blue eyes glittering merrily. Sabia instantly dipped into a curtsey as she recognized King Cailan. Duncan bowed to Cailan, his eyes shining a bit with friendly warmth.

"I almost thought you wouldn't make it, my friend!" Cailan said brightly. "I was hoping to have you at my side when we rode into battle. I am glad you have returned." He eyed Sabia, worry on his face. He recognized her. "This is Teyrn Cousland's daughter that you have with you, Duncan...why?"

Sabia kept her eyes on Cailan's greaves, and Duncan nodded.

"This is Lady Cousland of Highever, your Majesty, and-"

"And I bring you news, your Grace!" Sabia interjected, whipping her head up, her red curls fluttering around her face. Cailan looked bewildered.

"What news?"

"Teyrn Cousland and his family were slaughtered, Sabia the only survivor. At the hands of Arl Rendon Howe. No doubt he would tell you whatever story you would have liked, your Majesty, but I was fortunate enough to save their daughter. Their son, Fergus, is here, and could be in danger of being disposed of by Howe's men," Duncan said before Sabia could launch into a tear filled rage. Cailan's face was hard and pale, his eyes narrowed.

"Howe...why would he betray Highever like this?" He murmured, pacing away. He was silent a few moments before turning to Sabia, his face stern, looking very much like his father in that moment.

"Howe will hang once this battle is over. I promise you. Your family will see justice. Not that it will bring them back to you, my Lady, but Howe will hang for his treachery," he vowed. He looked pained then- the resignation of a boy trudging off to do chores he had no desire to do.

"If you'll excuse me, my Lady. Duncan. I have to get ready for Loghain's debriefing before he has his guards sending out a search party."

Sabia inhaled sharply, and Duncan flicked his eyes in her direction.

"The Teyrn is here?" She asked, trying not to sound too desperate. Cailan nodded and pointed to the north.

"His tent is that way. I know you are friends with my dearest wife, and I am sure he will want to know of what happened. You should speak to him as soon as possible. If his guards give you trouble, tell them I sent you," he said, handing her a small piece of parchment with his seal on it. Sabia clutched it to her chest as though it were made of gold, nodding with eyes threatening to spill over with tears. She bowed to him once more as he turned to go, then turned back to Duncan. He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a measuring look.

"You know Teyrn Loghain does not trust the Wardens. It might be a good idea not to tell him you are joining for now," he said cautiously. Sabia narrowed her eyes slightly.

"He deserves to know. He was my father's friend, and has every right to know. I won't lie to him," she said, turning on her heel and storming off towards Loghain's tent. Duncan sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Maker have mercy on me when the Teyrn finds out."

**..**

Loghain finished strapping his leg plates, and reached for his chest plate when one of his guards coughed just outside his tent to get his attention. Sighing, he set the chest plate back down and strode to the entrance, the plate of his legs and boots clanking. He blinked once to let his eyes adjust to the sunlight, then blinked again as he saw Sabia standing there, her hair a mess, her eyes red, cheeks ruddy and swollen, clutching Cailan's royal seal to her heaving chest.

"Lady Cousland... what are you doing here?" He asked in disbelief. "Surely Eleanor didn't agree to sending you to fight!"

Sabia let out a small sob, and Loghain quickly put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her inside the tent. Once the flap closed behind them, she flung herself against him, burying her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. She began sobbing, soaking his shirt. Loghain was quiet, unsure as to what to say. He stroked her hair a few times, making a few soft noises, trying to get her to calm down enough to talk to him. After a few moments, she quieted, pulling back to wipe at her tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes. Loghain handed her a handkerchief, feeling out of sorts- Anora didn't cry much, he was unused to handling this sort of thing. She took it carefully and wiped her eyes with it.

"I... I'm sorry, your Grace," she said, her voice hitching. Loghain shook his head.

"What happened, Sabia? Why are you here?" He asked. Sabia hiccuped violently, her entire body wracking.

"A-Arl Howe... he... he killed my mother, my father, my sister-in-law and my little nephew. Even Lady Landra and her son Dairren. All slaughtered! He overtook Highever!" She wailed, pressing her face into his chest again, breaking into fresh sobs.

The look on Loghain's face was odd, a mixture of shock, anger and confusion. He was silent and still, Sabia's sobs the only thing in his tent making a sound. He finally pulled back, making her look at him with a gentle hand under her chin. Her emerald eyes were bloodshot and still shining with tears, and his mouth turned down even more at seeing them.

"We... we knew Howe's men were delayed, but we thought it just simple delays," he said carefully. "Maker help us, that the delay was destroying the Couslands."

Sabia hiccuped again, her spasming rib cage sending a jolt through Loghain's stomach. She sniffled, wiping her eyes.

"If only that were the only problem," she muttered. Loghain lifted a brow.

"What do you mean?" He asked carefully. Sabia looked at him, and he didn't see a young woman just reaching her prime in those eyes- he saw a wild she wolf being pushed into a cage, full of desperation and panic.

"Duncan... he... He made my father promise that I'd be a... a..." she trailed off and turned away from him, hiccuping again. Loghain grabbed her shoulders roughly and whirled her around, bringing her close.

"Promise you'd be a what?" he asked dangerously, knowing that name all too well. Sabia bit her lip, suppressing a wail.

"A Grey Warden!" She cried. "It was the only way Duncan would agree to save me!"

Loghain growled deep in his throat.

"I won't have it. What sort of man preys on the daughter of a dying man!" He snarled. "No, I won't have it! I had plans for you, Sabia. Ferelden had plans for you. You could be a Teyrna, a Bann, a lieutenant, or a commander. Even being a personal body guard for my daughter is better than you being a Grey Warden. I won't have it!"

Sabia gave a cry of relief and hugged him. She froze momentarily- it suddenly occurred to her that her cheek wasn't met by the cold unforgiving silverite of his signature armor- it was pressing against the slightly yielding flesh of his chest, only covered by the tear soaked cloth of his shirt. A sudden feeling of awareness flooded through her- the awareness of her own sex as she pressed against this mountain of a man, his pulse, skin and flesh warm and strong under her touch. A cruel painful heat rose in her neck and a bloom of tension flared in her belly as his scent reached her nose- the scent of clean sweat, silverite and the unmistakable scent of a powerful, virile man's musk. She pulled back, almost recoiling, and gave him a hopeful smile, hoping he hadn't noticed anything. Loghain put a hand on her shoulder, his steely blue eyes looking at her seriously.

"I will talk to Cailan. I won't have you in the Wardens. I will do my best to talk him into seeing about your release from the custody of the Wardens," he said. "For now, you stay here. I will have my men bring you something warm to eat."

He looked around awkwardly, not sure what to do with a young woman whom had lost everything in one night. What exactly did he say in this situation? He assuaged himself with the thought that he was already taking the first step by telling her he would talk to Cailan. His mouth set in firm line at the thought of that encounter. Cailan would be appalled at the thought of him trying to pull her out of the Wardens. As far as Cailan was concerned, the Wardens were gods among men. It was that foolishness that would get them all killed. He still believed the Wardens were up to something. His thoughts came to a halt as his eyes fell on the wash basin. He picked up a soft rag and dipped it in the water, wrung it out, and handed it to Sabia, still feeling awkward as he sat back down next to her.

"There. Wash your face. No lady should have tears on her cheeks unless she cries in happiness," he said gently.

Sabia might have flushed, he couldn't tell through the ruddy color that came to her cheekbones with her sobbing. She wiped at her face gently, then wiped her eyes, giving a great shuddering sigh, her rib cage wracking with another hiccup. Loghain winced, he'd never seen a woman cry until she gave herself hiccups like that. He got up and poured her a glass of wine. It was a weak wine, but robust in flavor, and hopefully would calm her down a bit. She took the glass with a small muttered thank you, and she took a few small sips, closing her eyes in appreciation at the flavor.

"Gwaren?" She asked. Loghain tilted his head.

"What?"

"The wine. Is it from Gwaren? I've only tasted a wine like this once before. There's something in it that tastes...wild. Like it's made from a fruit that prefers woods to tame sunny vineyards," she said, smelling the wine before taking another sip. Loghain felt his mouth curl a bit in a small smile. The woman knew her wines. Something of a noble was in her, after all- she wasn't just a sword maiden.

"It is. It's made from grapes, but berries from the woods are added in to give it its own unique bouquet," he said, pouring a glass for himself. He'd need it to talk to Cailan about Sabia's future.

Sabia made a small hum in her throat, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a longer sip, closing her eyes a bit. Loghain tried to ignore the fact that it had been years since he had simply sat and talked to a woman over a glass of wine- especially since this woman was half his age, as young as his daughter, and was the daughter of one of his friends. Never mind she was still shaken and broken over the death of her family. It was a measure of her inner will that she was forcing herself to make small talk and not collapse into sobs again. The flush was slowly fading from her face, lingering on her cheekbones, and her eyes weren't as swollen, brought down from dabbing at her eyes with the cold wet cloth. Her hair was damp around the base of her neck from her tears, the curls clinging to her skin. Loghain took another sip of wine, trying to look anywhere but at her, feeling incredibly awkward. Sabia lowered her glass, resting it on her lean thigh, looking at it fixedly.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said softly, almost to where he had to lean closer to hear.

"I... for what, my Lady?" He asked, frowning. She gestured helplessly with her free hand.

"For calming me down, and for talking to his Highness about relocating me from the Wardens. My father didn't want me to join them, but he had little choice," she said quietly. Loghain set his mouth in a scowl.

"So he really asked for you as a recruit in order to save you?" He asked with disdain. Sabia nodded quietly, and he cursed under his breath.

"Maker's breath. I can't believe he would LEAVE you there to die if you refused," he said angrily. Sabia looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

"I don't believe he would have let me die, but I do believe he made my father believe that so he'd agree to letting me join the Wardens. Either way, t'was a cruel thing for him to do to my father...to... to lie to him as he..as he d-..." She trailed off, biting her lip to keep it from trembling, and Loghain gritted his teeth audibly at the Warden's audacity. He got to his feet in one smooth movement, Sabia looking up at him.

"I'm going to talk to Cailan now. The Wardens think they can lie to Teyrns on the brink of death to recruit their children? No. There is only so much they can get away with."

He picked up his chest plate and began awkwardly strapping it on. Sabia got to her feet soundlessly and moved behind him to help buckle the straps. His face softened, and he stood still to allow her help go unhindered. She was quick, with deft fingers, and he turned to face her as he hefted the pauldrons onto his shoulders, his face unreadable as she helped him with the straps. Without a word, she picked up his cloak and handed it to him. He slid the cloak over his plated shoulders, fastening it in place as she moved behind him to straighten the length of fine cloth. He paused, debating with himself, but against better judgment, he reached out and stroked her burning cheek, giving her a serious look.

"I will try my best to save you from this. For you, and your parents. You deserve better than being thrown to the scoundrels who would parley with Orlesians," he said firmly. "For now, feel free to stay here. My men will bring you some supper. Take your time to calm down."

He withdrew his hand, sliding his gauntlets on. With a slight bow, he strode from the tent. Sabia moved to the entrance, watching him stride off, moving with all the predatory grace of a seasoned conqueror. His armor glinted, and his cloak unfurled behind him, the wyvern of Gwaren emblazoned on it. She felt her face sliding into a soft expression of admiration as she watched him go, and one of the guards paused to look at her curiously. She turned her face away, flushing, and saw Duncan from the corner of her eye- he was looking for her. She backed up into Loghain's tent quickly, ducking out of sight. One of the guards followed after her, holding a tray with a bowl of stew and some bread.

"The Teyrn said you'd want some supper, milady," he said kindly. She nodded and took it from him gratefully, the aroma of the stew reaching her nose. A simple meal, but it was warm, and would be heaven compared to a week of nothing but dried rations and the occasional skin-and-bones coney tossed on a spit to cook unevenly. She looked back at the guard.

"There is a Grey Warden looking for me. Can you not let him know I'm here? Please?" She asked, her eyes pleading.

It obviously had spread quickly that Lady Cousland, newly orphaned, and sister to the new Teyrn of Highever, was in the camp, and sympathies were with her. The guard smiled and nodded, making a crossing motion over his chest.

"Cross my 'eart, milady. 'E won't 'ear a word from me!" He said warmly.

Sabia gave him a smile of thanks as he left. She settled back down onto the bench, looking at her dinner. She was hungry, but wasn't ready to eat yet. She eyed the cot on the other side of the tent, and fatigue washed over her. She curled up on the sturdy cot, burying her nose in the soft blanket that had been thrown over it. It smelled of him. She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket down, wrapping it around herself, surrounding herself with his scent. She took comfort in it, in the fact that he was going to try to salvage the situation.

"Everything will be alright now. Maybe things will even get better," she murmured to herself. Surrounded by the warm blanket and the Teyrn's scent, lulled to drowsiness by the wine and crying, she quickly fell into the deepest sleep she'd had in a week.

**..**

Loghain strode up to Cailan, his face set in exasperated anger, his brow and mouth drawing up in an angry scowl as he saw Duncan moving in to stand near him as well. He moved his sights from the young king to the meddling Warden, brandishing a gauntlet covered hand at him, pointing in accusation.

"Warden, you've got some nerve doing what you did," he growled, his voice gravelly with his anger. Duncan looked at him, nonplussed, and Cailan blinked.

"Loghain, what are talking about?" He asked. Loghain curled his lip, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the Warden.

"You made a dying man think they only way his daughter would live was to join the Grey Wardens. Is that how your order works now? Preying on people going through strife and death? Stealing the daughters of nobility before the blood of their parents has a chance to go cold?" He demanded, drawing close to the man.

Duncan was quiet, but he thought to himself that the Teyrn of Gwaren had picked a very suiting symbol for his House, as he was reminded very much of a wyvern as the infuriated Teyrn circled him. He practically expected Mac Tir to snort smoke and breathe fire. He resisted the urge to scowl- he knew Sabia had run to him, despite his wishes she had stayed away. Now he had to deal with the angry friend of her deceased father. He held up his hands as Loghain moved ever closer.

"I did what I had to. I came to Highever looking for recruits, and she was the best choice. She is a good fighter, with a good head on her shoulders, and her father refused to even let me talk to her about the Order," he said. Loghain snorted in agreement.

"And a wise refusal that was!" He interjected, closing the distance between them. "The girl has other options. If her brother cannot be found, she's the only heir left to take over Highever. Unless you WANT Howe to become Teyrn of such a large estate? What's to say he wouldn't move after your order if he thinks he can get away with such treachery?"

Duncan gave him a weary look.

"No one has authority over Grey Wardens. Howe is not a threat to us. But as a noble and possibly the only heir to the Highever Teyrnir, he would be a threat to Lady Cousland. She would be safe with us," he explained patiently, earning another snort from the Teyrn.

"Is that so? I heard the ritual you Wardens do is lethal. How is she safe if she may not even survive the initiation? How is THAT thinking of her safety?" He asked heatedly. Duncan sighed.

"I choose my recruits based on prowess, stamina and overall health. Lady Cousland has a great chance of survival, and would be a very powerful Warden."

Loghain turned to Cailan.

"Surely you see the madness in this? This Warden told Teyrn Bryce Cousland that his daughter would only survive if he allowed her to be recruited. Took all of her choices away in one fell swoop. You've met Lady Cousland- you know about her from Queen Anora. Surely you know she has the potential to do so much!" He argued.

Cailan looked helpless.

"Loghain, I understand, and I know that you are upset about the loss of the Couslands, as I am. I... I don't have the authority to tell Duncan no. I cannot command him to release Lady Cousland," he said softly. "I think becoming a Grey Warden is an honor, though. I don't see why she wouldn't want it."

Loghain took a step back, his eyes disbelieving.

"Why she wouldn't want it? Your Highness, she's a woman barely into her prime. She could be an officer in your or my armies, a Teyrna, or even the confidante of Anora. She could be a wife and mother," he said, rounding on Duncan. "Did you tell her she won't be able to have children, Warden? That marriage is pretty much out of the question? Did you ask her if she wanted to throw all that away, Warden?"

Duncan met his gaze stoically.

"The Wardens need all the help we can get. Even in these days, we are met with opposition, and mistrust."

Loghain let out a bark of laughter, turning his back to Duncan, pacing a few steps, then whirling back around, his cloak billowing about it. He pointed at Duncan, setting his mouth in a snarl.

"You bring the mistrust upon yourselves, Warden. Antics like what you've done to Lady Cousland are what earn your opposition. Don't cry to the Nobles about not being allowed into their homes without suspicion, when you would recruit their children as they lay dying," he spat. Duncan folded his arms over his chest.

"She is too valuable to the Wardens. I will not release her, Teyrn Mac Tir."

Loghain struggled to keep his rage in check, and tried to keep his face from contorting. He failed.

"You over step yourself, Warden! You and your order have always had a hidden agenda, and you would have us give you our sons and daughters, the heirs to Teyrnirs and thrones, then have us lay down our weapons so you might hand us all over to Orlais!" He shouted, his harsh voice sounding through the ruins like the bellow of an angered dragon. A few Chantry sisters fled the area, startled, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. His nostrils flared as he took a few deep breaths, his chest heaving in rage. He moved a few scant inches from Duncan, pushing his face close to his.

"You'll be the death of us all, Warden. I only hope that the death you force on Lady Cousland is swifter and more merciful than the death you left her parents to."

Without waiting to hear what Cailan would say, he stormed off for his tent. He knew he couldn't save Sabia from this fate, thus the reason for his rage. He pushed his way into the tent, throwing his gauntlets off and onto the makeshift table. A small sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Sabia sprawled out over his cot. His face softened as he saw how she slept through the sounds of him taking off his armor- she truly must have been exhausted. He noticed her dinner sat untouched on the table, and that she hadn't even taken off her boots, her feet dangling off the end of the cot. She was lying in an odd position- it looked as though she'd started out on her side and turned her torso so she was resting her upper body on her back. One arm was flung up over her head, the other laying across her belly where the blanket was bunched up. He chuckled softly and pulled the blanket off her, shaking it out and covering her back up. She mumbled in her sleep, rolling back onto her side, sliding her arms under the pillow. He sighed, looking at her sadly, but he wouldn't wake her up. She was smiling slightly, her brow furrowed- she was having a bittersweet dream. He wouldn't wake her from that, only to pull her into this waking nightmare. Let her smile one last time. Against his better judgment, he stroked her cheek, pushing a lock of hair off her face.

"I've failed you, Sabia. I can't save you from this. I just hope you're strong enough to survive whatever hell they're going to put you through," he muttered, sitting on the end of the cot and watching her enjoy the last pleasant dream she'd ever have.

**..**

Sabia was quiet, as was Alistair, though they were quiet for completely different reasons. Alistair was in shock, knowing that the Wardens were dead, Duncan and Cailan along with them. Sabia was reeling from the news that Loghain had simply abandoned the field. She refused to believe he had betrayed King Cailan. The Wardens? She could see that. King Cailan? No. He wouldn't do that to Anora. He wouldn't abandon his son-in-law. He wouldn't have abandoned her. Her mind whirled as she thought about the reasons why.

The tower had been overrun. They hadn't lit the beacon on time. Sabia was positive of this. Most likely, by the time they HAD lit the signal, it was too late; King Cailan's forces were most likely overwhelmed. If Loghain had sent his men in, they all would have died. He had to think of Ferelden's defenses; if all of the soldiers died, who would protect the people of Ferelden from any threat? She shook her head, Alistair not even noticing. No. Loghain would never leave Ferelden defenseless. He would as soon kill his own daughter as leave his homeland with no soldiers to defend her. Alistair would talk of nothing but ill thoughts towards Loghain, and Sabia finally lashed out at him, stalking away to sit near the young witch, Morrigan. The young apostate was wary of Sabia when they first met in the Wilds, but her sharp wit and her tepid attitude towards Alistair made her warm up to her quickly enough.

"You are quiet," came the other's woman's clear smooth voice.

Sabia lifted her head, looking at Morrigan as she stirred the stew in the cauldron. She looked back down at the hands folded in her lap. She gritted her teeth, and Morrigan laughed lightly, her giggle sounding like windchimes.

"Your irritation with the Templar is most amusing. I approve," she said, ladling out a bowl and handing it to Sabia, who mouthed a soundless thanks, staring at the bowl in her hands. Morrigan snickered delicately.

"Tis for eating, dear Warden, even if it is pretty enough to look at," she said dryly, but Sabia smiled nonetheless, taking a sip from the bowl.

"It's delicious, Morrigan. Thank you."

Morrigan gave a half smile and nodded.

"Tis the least I can do. My mother did all the healing. I can at least fill your bellies."

Sabia sighed, going quiet as she finished her meal. Morrigan sat down next to her.

"The deaths of the King and Wardens are not what's beleaguering you. What is it, then?" she asked. Sabia knew she was just curious and prying, but it would be nice to talk to someone who didn't spit sparks and smoke at the very mention of Loghain's name.

"I don't believe he betrayed us. He did what he thought was best," she said quietly. Morrigan lifted a delicate brow.

"People will believe what they want. The truth is irrelevant when the only ones who know it are dead or the ones in question. It's the view of the public that will make lies become truth, and truth into wild rumors," she said bluntly, shrugging her slender shoulders. Sabia sighed.

"I just... it hurts that I won't be able to reach him," she said quietly. Morrigan tilted her head, almost birdlike.

"Was he your lover, then?" She asked. Sabia's face went blood red, then she lowered her gaze, recovering her composure.

"No... but he was my knight in shining armor... and he didn't save me."


	4. 2: Lothering

AN: Thank you guys for the reviews and insight. I appreciate all of them, even if I don't personally respond!

Also- I miss a LOT of stupid mistakes, so I am looking for a Beta.

* * *

"So, I've had a thought."

Morrigan whipped her head around, blinking her odd yellow eyes, a cruel smirk curling her lips as she lowered her bowl. Sabia suppressed a smirk of her own as she saw the thoughts whirling behind the wolf-like eyes of the female mage- all of them centered around making verbal stabs at Alistair. She paused after swallowing her mouthful of stew, watching the two. She flicked her gaze back to the line of woods just outside their camp- she was wary of the night woods, while Morrigan seemed completely at home, something Sabia envied. Morrigan tilted her head in her bird like way, eyes glinting.

"A momentous occasion! You deserve applause, truly!" She said, her voice coated with cruel mirth. Alistair rolled his eyes and ignored her, his eyes fixing on Sabia. Morrigan wasn't done, swooping in for another stab.

"So, Alistair, falling on your blade didn't seem like a good idea anymore and you decided to rejoin us the world of the lucid?" She said smoothly, her eyes narrowed slightly as she engaged in her favorite game. Alistair made a face at her, and opened his mouth to retort, but Sabia, who had been enjoying the silence- a rarity during meals, what with the snarling spats between the three of them- held up her hand.

"What, Alistair?" She asked. She wasn't fond of the Templar, but she had no desire to make an outright enemy of him- even if he did waste most of his breath cursing at Loghain. Alistair looked at her, the corner of his mouth curling down slightly as he rested his bowl on his knee.

"We need to decide where to go first after we get supplies at Lothering," he said, rolling his shoulder to adjust the position of his shield. Sabia nodded, hiding her irritation. She'd been pondering that the past few days, and her mind was set on the Circle of Mages, first. She hadn't been sure how Alistair or Morrigan would take that decision, hence her reluctance to announce it. She sighed, her chest heaving, and her company looked at her curiously.

"I decided we should go to the Circle, first," she said, her fingers gripping her bowl, anticipating a roar from both of them.

They did not disappoint. Alistair fumed, going on about how Arl Eamon should take priority over mages. Morrigan snapped at him for saying mages weren't important, then turned her wrath on Sabia, asking how she would protect her from the Templars there that would label her an apostate. Sabia was silent as they vented, and when they realized they weren't going to get a rise from her, they fell quiet, waiting. Sabia took another patient breath.

"Look. The mages are governed by the Templars and the Chantry. If we get their support, we garner the support of the templars as well, and though the Chantry won't take sides, it does keep them from turning on us completely if Loghain and Howe decide to try their hand at forcing them to. With the situation we're in, we need all the help we can get. Morrigan, you are under my protection. I've learned all too well that no one has authority over the Grey Wardens. If they try to take you in, they will have to get through me, and it won't be pretty. Especially with the knowledge of poisons you've been teaching me," she said, her eyes fixing on Morrigan's yellow gaze. 'Much to the distaste of Alistair,' she thought, hiding a grin at the face he made at that comment.

This pleased Morrigan greatly, as she made a small sound of satisfaction, and she finished off her meal quietly with no further complaints. Alistair, however, glared at her curiously. Sabia looked at him, lifting a brow and lowering her bowl.

"What?"

"You would fight Templars for her? An apostate?" He asked incredulously. Morrigan and Sabia both gave him a scathing look, and to his credit, he didn't flinch away. Sabia sighed, setting down her bowl. She doubted her stew would be warm by the time she got around to finishing it. It hardly ever was with all the arguing they did at supper.

"Yes, Alistair. I promised Flemeth that no harm would come to her. I am wary of Flemeth's abilities and intentions, and I respect Morrigan and her abilities, so I will keep my word," she said firmly, turning away from him slightly to indicate the conversation was over. Morrigan offered her a rare genuine smile, and Alistair scowled. They finished their meal in silence- and sure as she suspected, the last few bites of her stew were cold- before turning in for the night. Sabia took the first watch and stared up at the stars, wondering as she always did- what would have happened if Duncan had let her go, and if Loghain was cursing this entire situation as much as she was. Avariel came bounding back into camp from his nightly romp in the woods, curling around his mistress. Sabia leaned against the huge war dog's warm sides, stroking his ears, her eyes moving to resume their nightly nervous watch of the woods.

..

"Heads up, gentlemen! We have company, and I take it the pretty young lass is the leader!"

Sabia came to a stop, Morrigan and Alistair not far behind, Avariel stepping carefully to his mistress' side. The four of them eyed the men standing in their path. They all wore studded leather and were armed with swords or daggers. A makeshift barricade was all but blocking the path off the highway into Lothering, and amongst the slabs of wood were crates that looked to be packed with goods. Sabia's sharp ears caught the soft clink of coins in the hidden purse of the man that stood at the fore of the little band of men. She'd asked Alistair if heightened hearing was a side effect of the Joining, but he stated his hearing was the same as it ever was- something she countered with a tease that he DID have selective hearing. It had warmed him up to her a bit, something she wasn't TOO adverse to.

Sabia folded her arms over her chest, resting her weight on one hip, her cloak falling open as she let the daggers at her hips glint in the morning light. Avariel caught her tension, and his muzzle curled slightly, his large fangs glittering. The man standing closest to the leader, a stout man with a round face, looked at Morrigan, who had frost accumulating on her staff, and Alistair with his shield and longsword.

"Erm...mebbe we should let these ones pass, boss. They's looked armed, and they 'ave a mabari. Thought only Nobles had them," he said. The leader, Rivaini from the look of him- like Duncan, Sabia thought with a snarl-laughed.

"Does it matter if they're armed! This is a toll! Not highway robbery!" He said, and the other men laughed as well. The round faced man forced a smile, but his eyes were still wary. Sabia gave him credit- he LOOKED stupid, but he wasn't a complete idiot.

"That's right. Highway toll!"

Sabia lifted a brow, eyes narrowed, unimpressed and unconvinced.

"A toll?" She asked dryly in disbelief. "How much?"

"For you, beautiful, one sovereign and a kiss...or ten silvers and a little more," the Rivaini said, grinning lasciviously. Sabia narrowed her bright green eyes dangerously.

"How about you rethink that to nothing. No one takes advantage of a Grey Warden, or a Cousland" she said threateningly. The bandits blinked nervously, and the round faced man paled.

"I TOLD you they's not like the rest of thems, boss. They's not refugees!"

The Rivaini laughed, his eyes glinting.

"Lots of people might pretend to be a noble or a Grey Warden to get past a toll. Let's teach em a lesson about pretending to be traitors, shall we?"

The bandits lunged, and Sabia leaned back, letting their momentum carry them over and past her, unsheathing her longsword and dagger as she did. She flung her blades out at a bandit and sliced him from throat to groin, dancing out of reach as another charged. Alistair pulled out his shield and slammed the leader with it, knocking him to the ground. Morrigan uttered a single word and a cloud of black miasma erupted from her fingers, leaving the bandits reeling, and she froze one in place. Avariel snarled ferociously, charging at a man and pinning him to the ground, ripping at his throat.

Sabia's nostrils flared as the scent of fear, copper and salt wafted across her nostrils, and her own blood sang in response. She had dueled many times, but hadn't drawn blood like this before. When she fought Howe's men back at Highever, it had been different. She had been different. Was this the taint in her veins that made bloodlust sing through her body? Her pupils dilated, and belly tensed, her spine relaxing as she found her balance and took up her stance. Another bandit flew at her, and she parried his swing, flicking her dagger to slam his wrist, disabling the arm before swinging around with her longsword and gashing his chest open. Her heart raced as blood sprayed over her, and she let loose a bark of laughter. As quickly as it started, the fight ended. The leader got to his knees in front of her.

"No more! Maker's Breath I didn't know you were really Grey Wardens! Please don't kill me! I was only trying to get by! We all are, with the darkspawn coming for us!" He pleaded. Sabia narrowed her eyes and put her sword, dripping with gore, to his neck.

"Tell me. What did you mean by 'pretending to be traitors'? TELL ME," she demanded.

"T-Teyrn L-Loghain put a bounty on the heads of any remaining Wardens," he stammered. "He said that they tricked the King and his men into their deaths!"

Sabia's eyes went wide. Surely Loghain wouldn't do this if he knew she were alive. He wouldn't do that to her, would he?

"Dead or alive?" She demanded, her blade cutting a small nick in his throat. He made a small squeal, and Sabia found herself grinning at it.

"Dead or alive, my lady! He even said there'd be extra if a female Warden were brought to him alive!" He cried.

Sabia's breath caught. So he didn't want her DEAD. He was giving incentive to have her brought to him alive. Was that it? That had to be it. Surely that was it. Her mind was too busy racing to see Alistair put his weapons away.

"We should let them go," he said. "They leave what they've taken, leave with their lives." Morrigan snorted.

"I say we teach them a lesson. Kill all but one so he can tell others what he saw of us," she replied, earning an acidic glare from Alistair. Sabia narrowed her eyes, blood trickling down her jaw.

"No. We kill them all."

Alistair turned to her, his eyes wide, and the remaining bandits shook, faces pale. Morrigan lifted a brow, but her full lips were pursed in approval.

"What do you mean, kill them all? Maker's Breath, show mercy!" The leader pleaded, holding up his hands. Sabia forced him back with her sword, leering.

"Why? You're willing to attack refugees for their scant money and belongings. You'd turn your belly to the highest bidder. If I let you go, you'd run straight to Loghain's men and tell them where you saw us and pocket the reward. No. I can't allow it," she said softly, her tone even.

Alistair looked conflicted. He knew she was right, and that their already seemingly impossible task would become even harder if they didn't try to be discreet. The bandits actually looked about to cry. One burst into tears, begging for mercy from the Maker. Sabia stepped forward and swiftly ended the leader's life with a quick clean cut to the throat. Her face was contorted in a mixture of emotions as the men begged for clemency, but quickly, painlessly, she ended all their lives. She wiped her blades clean on the leader's cloak and bent over, searching his armor. Alistair blanched.

"Stealing from a dead man, Sabia? REALLY?" He protested. Sabia straightened up, a fat purse in her hand, large enough to fill her palm. Alistair blinked and she scowled.

"This dead man was stealing from innocent people fleeing the darkspawn. It can be put to our use to help us gather our armies to save them. We're of no use to the people of Ferelden if we can't buy supplies or food," she said evenly.

Ignoring his conflicted nod of agreement, she inspected the crates. There were piles of clothing, personal belongings- some of which looked worthless, but probably had deep meaning to the owners. Her face softened, then contorted again in anger as she saw a child's doll in the crates. She pulled the poppet, a lovingly worn and handmade toy, from the crate and showed it to Alistair. His face was blank as he looked at the toy that should have been in the arms of a little girl. Sabia set her mouth in a firm line.

"Feel bad about them now?" she asked. Alistair shook his head.

"No. You're right. I'm sorry, Sabia," he said quietly. Sabia's gaze softened and she put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I know you don't like this any better than I do," she said softly. He looked at her questioningly.

"But you seem used to it," he replied. She looked away.

"No. I'm not. I just saw too much of it too fast and too soon. That's all."

She tucked the doll carefully into her pack and looked to Morrigan, who was keeping an eye on the road.

"Come, help me see if there's anything else that might be taken to the village," she said.

The three of them sifted through the crates, seeing what they might be able to return to those would need it, Avariel keeping watch as the sun rose in the sky.

..

"Excuse me, my lady!"

Sabia turned, her guard already up. An elven couple, daughter in tow, came up to them carefully. They looked bedraggled and like they hadn't eaten in some time. Sabia's heart went out to them as she saw the woman and girl's faces were tear stained. The little girl looked up at her, trying to be respectful. Sabia offered her a arm smile, and the parents relaxed a bit, still nervous about how they were armed, their hoods pulled up to halfway cloak their faces. The man cleared his throat.

"I noticed you... fighting the bandits," he said. Sabia nodded, eyes flicking to an armored figure that was approaching. A Templar. Morrigan noticed, and she stiffened a bit, but Sabia's reassuring glance made her relax, if only slightly. The Templar gave her a once over, noting she was still blood stained.

"Was there a problem, miss?" He asked. Sabia shook her head.

"Are you assigned to protecting the village, Ser?" She asked. The Templar nodded, his face hidden behind his helmet.

"Aye, miss. Need assistance? I can see if we can offer it." Sabia shook her head again.

"I wanted to let you know the bandits have been killed. There's a great deal of personal belongings there that need to be returned," she said, the Templar stiffening in surprise.

"Truly?" He asked incredulously, looking her over as though he couldn't believe a woman could deal with that sort of fighting. Another Templar came out of nowhere, nodding.

"Truly. Was about to help, but it was over pretty quickly. We thank you, miss," he said. Sabia ignored them both, eyes on the elven girl. She kneeled in front of the little girl, wiped the blood from her hands and pulled the doll from her pack, holding it out to her tenderly.

"Is this yours, sweetheart?" She asked softly.

The little girl's eyes filled with tears, and she took her doll with trembling hands, crushing the beloved toy to her chest. Sabia made a pleased affectionate sound and she stroked the girl's hair once in reassurance. Her parents looked on in disbelief at Sabia's kindness, and the templars muttered venomously about the cruelty of people, touched by the tears of the little girl. They moved to the path into Lothering, calling the refugees to make a line to search for their belongings. The elven woman looked at Sabia with reverence, her eyes wide.

"You have a kind heart, my Lady," she said softly. Sabia reached into the purse and handed the woman two sovereigns.

"Take it. Go search with the others. Your belongings may still be there. Take them and flee north. The horde is coming. Do not be here when it comes. Save your daughter and flee," she said grimly. The man nodded and looked into her eyes. He cocked his head as he saw the glint of grey and silver amongst the green, and his eyes flicked to Alistair's. Seeing the same mark in his eyes, he bowed his head respectfully.

"Thank you Wardens," he said softly so that only they might hear. He took his family towards the crates, all of them looking back with wide eyes. Alistair made a soft sound of satisfaction.

"That felt good," he said. Sabia nodded, but said nothing. Morrigan looked like she was on the fence about it.

"As long as we're not giving the entire purse away, t'was a good deed," she said lightly. Sabia smiled at her wryly.

"Not to worry, Morrigan. We'll keep some for ourselves, too. Let's head to the tavern and see what news we might overhear."

She pushed the tavern door open and trudged to the counter. She kept her hood up, but gave the barkeep an honest smile. He eyed her, but didn't say anything otherwise, obviously used to hooded figures coming into the tavern, fleeing bandits or Darkspawn. Alistair stood only a few feet away, and Morrigan hovered by Sabia's side, clinging like a burr. She slid a few silver on the counter with two fingers, meeting the man's hardened gaze.

"A few silvers for any news you might have heard... news, not gossip," she murmured for his ears. The man took the silvers, inspected them, then slid them in his pocket with a grunt before leaning close.

"Darkspawn 'orde coming- should be 'ere in a few days. People are mad with fear and are robbing, stabbing, killing each other. The templars 'ere are just fer show. Some armed men 'ave come through, recruiting for an army, and the able bodied men 'ave fled with their families- or without em, as ya can tell by the orphans and mothers clinging to their children." He paused, looking around. "There's rumors that the Grey Wardens betrayed the King, and that Teyrn Loghain is 'untin em down. Bounties are on their heads."

Sabia pursed her lips in disapproval.

"How many is he saying are alive?" she asked. He grunted.

"No idea. They're saying anywhere between two to ten. One woman, though. 'eard tell that 'e wants the woman alive, and 'er death will result in death for 'er killer. Says she has information the Teyrn needs, and she must be brought in fer questioning. Sounds skeevy if ya ask me. Like maybe she was spreadin 'er legs for a noble, maybe even the Teyrn and knows somethin she shouldn't."

Sabia fought to keep her face under control, and Morrigan's covert touch sent a chill through her, pushing back the heat that threatened to creep into her cheeks. Silently, she thanked the Maker for Morrigan's help. She lifted a brow, her gaze asking for more information, and the man rolled his shoulder.

"The Teyrn's got men here in the village, looking for the Wardens, especially the woman. They've been causing trouble over it, they 'ave. Been 'arassing people with a description of the woman."

Sabia narrowed her eyes, glad she'd had the foresight to pull her red curls into a bun before donning her cloak. The man peered at her suspiciously.

""Said she 'ad green eyes like yours...but yours isn't bright enough. I'd watch m'self, miss. They might mistake you for her."

Sabia nodded and slid another three silver to him.

"That's for your silence. Next time keep your gossiping thoughts to yourself," she said quietly. He nodded, his face going pale.

Sabia turned to go and her vision filled with the glinting chain of armor. She glanced up right into a leering face that was unshaven and haggard. Her heart hitched, stopped, then sputtered into double time as she saw the wyvern of Gwaren on the breast of his armor. The man swung his hand at her, knocking her hood back, revealing her bright red hair. He let out a triumphant crow.

"Looks like we've been lied to, boys. The tart's been here the entire time!" He said, eyes glinting before moving to Alistair. "And the other one's with her!"

A Chantry sister wove her way through the crowd and stood between Sabia and the soldier, her gentle eyes pleading.

"Surely there is no need for violence, Ser. This is surely a misunderstanding," she said, her voice elegant and cultured with an unmistakable Orlesian accent. The man scowled at her.

"This is official business on behalf of Teyrn Loghain. Don't get yourself involved, Sister," he growled.

Sabia narrowed her eyes, looking around to see that there were at least four of Gwaren's soldiers in the tavern, which was quickly emptying of patrons as they scurried to get out of harm's way. Under her cloak, she was already applying poison to her dagger, a lethal mix that Morrigan had taught her to make that would paralyze her target. Alistair was already shifting his hands a bit to get easy reach of his shield and sword, and Morrigan stood calmly as ever- she didn't NEED her staff to invoke magic, it just enhanced it. Avariel growled, baring his teeth in a horrible snarl. The men eyed the mabari warily.

"We were told the woman was a noble, and the mabari proves it. Ain't no common folk running around with a mabari these days," the leader spat, but even he was edging away from those ripping teeth. The Sister made a pleading gesture.

"A mabari may sometimes imprint on another if their master falls in battle. It is uncommon, but not heard of. Surely they are just refugees seeking rest and fleeing from the darkspawn," she implored. The man reached out and grabbed Sabia's chin, looking into her eyes.

"No? Then what's this silver in her eyes, then?" He growled. Sabia set her mouth firmly.

"Ser, you would do yourself a world of good if you released your hold on me," she warned softly. The man leered at her.

"Y'know... the Teyrn said we had to bring you in alive... didn't much mention any other limits on what we could do. How about you come quietly, and let us boys have a nice night before we head to Denerim, and we let your little friends go," he said, his expression lecherous. Sabia spat at him, the hot sputum landing squarely in his left eye. He hissed and released her, wiping his eyes. Sabia drew her daggers and quickly hit him in the stomach with the pommel, swinging her body down low to avoid being slammed by his fist, and she sliced the back of his knee, sending him falling to the floor.

The tavern exploded into a fight. The men rushed, and Alistair let out a battle cry, distracting the men. The Chantry Sister pulled daggers out from seemingly nowhere and began dancing with the blades, aiming to slow and impede, not maim and hurt. Morrigan stood calmly, black miasma roiling from around her, stunning the men close to her, and she began making quick work of one, freezing him and shattering him with lightning. Avariel tore into a man that tried to attack Sabia from behind, ripping at the man's throat and worrying him like he would a toy. The leader, shambling on one good leg, cried out.

"Stop! Maker's breath, woman, stop!" He cried. The sister slid her weapons back into the unseen straps she'd slid them from.

"Good. We can stop fighting and talk this over like civilized people," she said curtly. Sabia put her dagger under the man's chin, pushing upward to make him look at her.

"Did Loghain send you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. Her hair had come undone during the battle and her blood red curls fell around her face, her eyes glinting. The man shook, and she lowered her dagger. He nodded once the weapon was lowered.

"Yes, my Lady. Regent Loghain sent us. He told us to look for you. To kill any Wardens we found, save for a red headed lass. He wasn't sure if you were even alive, but he wants you brought back to Denerim if found. Alive. There's a reward of five hundred sovereigns for you brought alive and safely to the palace."

Alistair and the sister widened their eyes, and Morrigan cocked an eyebrow, giving Sabia a look that said many things at once, one of which was 'I thought he WASN'T your lover?'. Sabia ignored her look and focused on the guard.

"To what end?" She asked evenly, not sure if she wanted to know why Loghain would go to such lengths to have her brought in. The man shook his head.

"I don't rightly know, my Lady. He didn't say, just gave the order," he said, his voice desperate enough to let Sabia know he was telling the truth. She lowered her weapon all the way, her thoughts whirling. Should she just go with the man to Denerim? What would happen if she did? Would Loghain take care of her? Was it his way of trying to save her from what she had become? Her thoughts took a darker direction, and she felt panic color the edges of her mind. What if he saw her as a monster now because of the taint in her veins? What if he wanted her alive so he could kill her himself out of mercy? Another thought hit her, and she narrowed her eyes.

"You're CERTAIN Teyrn Loghain said this to you himself? Not Howe?" She asked. The man shifted nervously, wincing in pain as he jarred the knee she'd sliced.

"It... it is Teyrn Loghain's order, but Teyrn Howe carried the order out to us in his stead, my Lady."

Sabia's eyes went wide and her lip curled with rage.

"TEYRN Howe?" she hissed. "TEYRN? Of WHAT Teyrnir?"

Her hiss had the man blanching.

"Of Highever, my Lady," he said reluctantly. She shoved the dagger into his shoulder and he cried out.

"You had better be lying, Ser," she snarled. The man cried out again.

"No, my Lady! He's Teryn of Highever and Arl of Amaranthine!"

"Did you know that conniving bastard killed my father, Teyrn Bryce Cousland, to get that title? That he slaughtered innocents to get that title? That my brother, the TRUE heir of Highever, may still yet live? That if he doesn't, I am the heir of Highever? Did you know that, Ser?" She said, her voice a deathly quiet whisper. The man shook.

"Y-You're Lady Cousland! I... my Lady, I didn't know! We were told you were dead with the Teyrn and Teyrna, that Orlesians had attacked the castle and slaughtered the family Cousland!" He said, and from his genuine shock and outrage, Sabia knew he was telling the truth. She closed her eyes. Fergus may already be dead, and Howe was already squatting in her family home like some fat indulgent beast, drooling and corrupting her family's Teyrnir. She opened her eyes and gazed down at the man.

"I am letting you live," she began, and the man fell to the floor, kissing her feet. She pushed him away, making him look back up her. "You will give this message to Loghain. To Loghain ONLY. Tell him I live, and I will see him soon."

The man nodded desperately, and Alistair scowled.

"Why do you care, Sabia? The man betrayed us all!" He said heatedly. Sabia ground her teeth audibly.

"I care because I've known the man since I was a little girl. He said he would try to make things better for me, with my parents dead. He said I could do better than become a Warden," she said in frustration. Alistair made a horrible face.

"There is no greater honor than being a Warden," he spat. "Just because he's a paranoid old man who can't see past his hatred of Orlesians doesn't mean he knows what's best."

Sabia turned on him.

"And YOU do? The Chantry boy who's never been to a Landsmeet and seen the political side of Ferelden? Did Duncan, the heartless man who made my dying father promise me to your Order so I could be saved from being raped and killed by the men who followed a man my father thought was a friend, a man who killed his grandson and family?" she shrieked, her face turning red, flecks of sputum flying between her teeth. "Loghain is a great man, and he tried to save me from this fate. I love how Duncan, the man you so worship and adore, failed to mention the fact that I have thirty years to live until AFTER I was forced to drink Darkspawn blood. I love how my ability to have children was stripped from me, as well as the hopes of being a wife, the ability to have a good night's sleep without a damned ARCHDEMON screaming and singing in my head, clutching me in its fetid claws!"

She clenched her fists around the handles of her daggers, trying to compose herself.

"But NO, this is a GREAT honor, isn't it? A bloody FINE deal, I should think!" She said, her voice deathly quiet, making Alistair flinch and Morrigan grin wickedly. She turned back to the man.

"Tell Loghain I will see him again. And tell this to Howe. He will die at my hands, and he needs to try DAMNED harder and better than this pathetic excuse of a round up if he wants to see the end of the year. I'll have his head on a spike outside Highever once I claim my rightful place as Teyrna. If he HAS a spine, I'm going to make a belt out of it," she hissed. "Now go before my mercy wanes."

The man ran as fast as he could on his good leg, fleeing the tavern. Sabia sheathed her weapons and glared at Alistair, daring him to say something. Alistair was quiet and looked away. Morrigan laughed heartily.

"My dear, you are a wonderful woman," she said warmly, causing Sabia to smile in spite of herself. The Chantry sister edged closer, her eyes wide.

"So it's true? You are Wardens, then," she said quietly. Sabia sighed. Cat was out of the bag. No point in denying it now.

"Yes, we're Wardens. Well, this Templar and I are," she said, causing Alistair to scowl. The woman smiled.

"Then it is decided. I am coming with you. You need help, non?" She said, tilting her head and giving a knowing smile. Sabia blinked, taken by surprise.

"I... you saw what just happened, no? Are you sure that's what you want?" She asked, thinking the woman was either a spy sent by Howe, or insane. The woman laughed.

"I have been in quiet repose for far too long in the Chantry, and my skills can be put to good use helping you," she replied. Sabia lifted an eyebrow, new thoughts emerging about this woman.

"I'll say. You sure don't fight like any Sister I've seen. Never saw a Sister pull daggers out of nowhere, either. Regardless, won't the Revered Mother lay an egg if you try to leave?" Sabia asked slyly. The woman flushed.

"I am not a cloistered Sister. I took no vows. I was merely there to help and enjoy the quiet life of the Chantry," she said, her eyes not meeting Sabia's anymore. "But I had a vision, and it compels me to come with you."

Sabia blinked, eyes going wide and mouth going slack. Even Alistair and Morrigan looked perturbed. Morrigan folded her arms over her chest, smirking, and Alistair scratched his head.

"Another nutter for the group, then?" Morrigan asked in amusement. "Although a nutter with daggers isn't the BEST idea." Alistair laughed.

"No, I think she's more 'Ooh pretty colors,' rather than 'I am Princess Stabitty, stab stab kill!' to be honest," he said, earning a mixture of coolly lifted eyebrows and amused grins from the women. He held up his hands.

"I thought we were full up on crazy, though," he said. Sabia looked at the woman, head cocked.

"If you want to come with us, I won't lie to you. It will be dangerous. We fight Darkspawn, and apparently, we are wanted by Howe, and Loghain has a bounty on both our heads. Even if I'm a bit pricier than Alistair," she said, grinning. Alistair laughed, even though the joke was at his expense.

"I won't complain. The fact that you have five hundred sovereigns on your head only means they'll be less apt to notice mine," he said brightly. Sabia snorted good naturedly and held out her hand to the woman.

"I am Sabia Cousland," she said warmly. The woman took her hand and shook it, her eyes shining.

"I am Leliana. Shall I call you my Lady?" She asked. Sabia shook her head.

"I refuse to be called by title until I know my brother lives. Sabia is more than enough, Leliana. Glad to have you with us."

"I fear you may have hit your head a bit harder than mother thought," Morrigan said dryly, but her smirk told her that there was no animosity. Sabia snickered at her.

"It's true. I let you teach me about poison, didn't I?" She retorted. Morrigan laughed.

"True enough. True enough."

Sabia shouldered her pack and motioned for the door as she slid her hood back over her head, shadowing her face.

"We've dallied enough here. Let's get supplies and go."

The five walked outside, a cold breeze kicking up their cloaks. Sabia watched the comings and goings of the refugees as they filtered in and out of the village, and she spied a merchant. He looked hassled and annoyed, but he stood close to his cart, keeping watch, two heavily built men standing close for protection. Sabia wandered up to him and cleared her throat. He cast his eyes at her, running over the lines of her figure that were hinted at under her cloak as the breeze pushed the cloth against her body. She offered him a small neutral smile.

"Need supplies," she said simply. The man grunted.

"I have a bit left, miss. What exactly do you need?"

Sabia handed him a list they'd written up that morning before reaching Lothering- health poultices, lyrium potions, flasks, bandages and other assorted goods. The man read the list over and grunted again, spitting on the ground over his shoulder.

"Been cleared out of most of my flasks and bandages, but the poultices and potions are a bit rich for some people's pockets. Got plenty of them left," he said, lifting the lid on a crate to show her. Sabia pulled out enough to last them on their journey to Lake Calenhad- provided Morrigan used them sparingly, and they didn't get hurt enough to use all of the poultices in one trip. Morrigan was pretending to be nonchalant as her sharp eyes eyed the merchant's wares, but her eyes widened as they fell on a simple golden chain necklace. Sabia flicked her eyes and whispered to the merchant.

"How much for the necklace?" She asked quietly so Morrigan wouldn't hear. The merchant shrugged.

"People don't value jewelry much these days with Darkspawn running amok. Thirty silver."

"Done," Sabia said as one of the burly men loaded the supplies into her packs, putting the payment in the man's hands, along with fifty extra silver. The man narrowed his eyes.

"What's this for?" He asked. Sabia narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Silence. You didn't see me, nor the way I went," she said softly. The man nodded and pocketed the coins.

"Done, my lady. Not that I'd forget red hair like yours, but I won't cross the woman who sent Loghain's men running for the hills like children," he said smartly. Sabia smiled a bit, and nodded to him, the man returning the gesture.

"Maker watch over you, Warden," he said for her ears only, making her smile widen with genuine warmth.

"Maker watch over you, Ser," she replied.

The party, fully stocked, turned to leave the city, and Sabia frowned, hearing a foreign language muttering in a harsh gravelly tone. A cage came into their view, and Sabia saw a man standing in it, and it looked like he was praying or meditating. She paused- he was not human, larger than Alistair by a great deal, his skin a arm brown grey, his hair white. She came closer, and he glared at her with violet eyes.

"I am not here for your amusement, human," he said flatly. Sabia shook her head.

"I am not here to gawk, ser. May I ask your name?" She asked politely. He cocked his head.

"I am Sten of the beresaad, of the Qunari," he said cautiously. Sabia nodded at him.

"I am Sabia of the Grey Wardens. Pleased to meet you, Sten," she said. He snorted.

"Manners. Or you mock me." Sabia frowned, and the man continued to stare at her with little to no expression, as thought waiting for her to leave him.

"Why are you in this cage?" She asked. Leliana frowned.

"The Revered Mother said he killed an entire family, and was sentenced to be left to the Darkspawn," she said quietly. Morrigan scowled and waved her hand at the man in frustration.

"This noble creature should be set free, not locked up in some cage for the amusement of the Chantry," she said scornfully, and Sabia knew she was imagining herself in the cage at the hands of templars. She nodded though and turned her attention back to Sten ho returned her gaze coolly.

"It is as the woman says. I killed a family."

Alistair blinked, eyes wide, and he made a helpless gesture.

"And you feel no remorse at all, do you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. Sten simply stared back at him stonily, and Alistair fell silent. Sabia was looking over him, her eyes roving over his physique, and Sten made an impatient snort.

"Are you to open my mouth and look at my teeth like you would a horse, human?" He asked. Sabia shook her head.

"No, I am not," she said, pushing her hood back to let her face show fully, but keeping her red hair covered. A stubborn curl fell over her cheek anyway. "I am in need of people to aid me and Alistair to fight the Darkspawn."

"So you are of the Grey Wardens, then, are you?" Sten replied, interest and disbelief on his face.

Sabia nodded, her green eyes flashing around to see if anyone listened. Most of the refugees seemed intent on avoiding the tall stranger who had been sentenced as a sacrifice to the Darkspawn. Sabia herself thought it stupid- putting a strong man like this was a mixture of a waste of man power and only lured the Darkspawn to the small town. Her nose crinkled in disdain. As much as she loved the Maker and His bride, she didn't care much for His priests and templars.

"I am, though there are only two of us at present," she admitted, making Sten lift a brow in wry amusement as he studied her. The wind shifted, blowing back her cloak and revealing the form fitting leather of her armor and the glint of her many weapons. Sten saw this and nodded as he took in the rest of her party and how they were armed.

"Very well. If you wish, I will atone for my deeds in your service against the Darkspawn. The Revered Mother has my key, you will have to talk to her to have me set free," he said, scowling again, and Sabia was starting to think that the scowl was his normal expression, stifling a smile. She nodded.

"Very well. Morrigan, you and Avariel stay here. It would be best not to bring the two of you into the Chantry, and we could use the fact that Alistair and Leliana have connections there," she said quickly, causing Sten to lift a brow as it became obvious that not only was she the leader, she had good control of the group. Avariel whined, but sat on his haunches next to Morrigan, who did not seem too upset at being left behind.

"Indeed," she said. "I would hate to level the precious Chantry should the Templars get brave. I will keep our friend here company."

Sten rolled his eyes and muttered something in his own language, and Morrigan laughed. Sabia nodded and swept away from the cage, cloak billowing in her wake, Alistair and Leliana following close behind. The approached the Chantry and the Templars paid them no notice, save for nodding at Leliana. Sabia met the eyes of no one, keeping her hood up as she approached the chamber of the Revered Mother, who looked up at them from her prayer book as they entered. Sabia didn't raise her hood, but she bowed her head in respect.

"Good evening, Revered Mother," she said softly. The elder woman canted her head to the side, her sharp eyes studying them.

"What might I do for you, Child? And good evening, Sister Leliana," She said. Sabia pulled her hood back enough to show her face, and Alistair lifted both brows at the wide imploring expressive eyes she showed the Revered Mother.

"Revered Mother, I have come to ask of the man you have imprisoned just outside the village," she said, her voice sweet and cloying. Leliana tilted her head ever so slightly, impressed at the force of her wiles. The priestess sighed and rose from her chair.

"And what would you want to know of him?" She asked. "He is a dangerous murderer."

Sabia took a small breath, and looked at the priestess so intently, she turned, feeling the force of Sabia's eyes on her back. Her jaw was set firmly, and her chin was raised proudly, but her eyes were soft and tender, making the priestess blink.

"I am in need of strong men and women to assist me, you Reverence. I would beg your permission to have him released into my custody," she said, practically crooning, her voice almost sickeningly sweet and strong. Her face was that of a true courtier, a mask of pleasing neutrality, yet it was winning over the priestess, who sighed and looked at her curiously.

"If I do release him, what would you have him do for you?" She asked cautiously. Sabia didn't flinch.

"I am in need of help against the Darkspawn," she said simply, her statement blunt, but her voice smooth. The priestess blinked rapidly.

"Are you..." she began, and for a moment, Sabia thought she looked to call the templars to her side to bring them into custody. She kneeled before the older woman, her voice becoming light, airy and desperate.

"Your Reverence, I mean no harm to anyone here. I merely wish to take a prisoner off your hands and be on my way. The man would benefit me greatly, and his presence is only luring the Darkspawn closer to the village you seek to protect- they will hardly be able to resist such a prize. Please, let me protect your village and rid you of this burden all at once. I do not wish to invoke the Right of Conscription, but I will if I must," she implored, her tapered fingers reaching out and touching the hem of the priestess' robes. A glint shone there, and Leliana noticed she had slipped a sovereign under the cloth. The priestess sighed and pulled a key from her belt.

"Here then. Take him and be gone, Warden. I won't raise the alarm, but know that you and those who keep your company have been branded as traitors against the Crown. I cannot offer you anymore than that," she said in exasperation. Sabia took the woman's hand and kissed it.

"Thank you, your Reverence. We will disappear before the hour. On my word."

Getting to her feet fluidly, she and her company swept from the Chantry quietly- not before ducking behind a shelf, where Sabia pulled out a tool and pried open the lock of a chest there. She smirked as she pulled out some items and examined them, then tucked them under her belt and led her group through the doors. Alistair fumed at her once the doors shut behind them and they were out of earshot of the templars.

"Did you just STEAL from the CHANTRY?" he hissed. Sabia shrugged lightly.

"It was just a medallion and some blank vellum," she said nonchalantly. Alistair still scowled darkly, and Leliana was nonplussed, her face conflicted Sabia ignored them as she approached the cage. Sten looked at her expectantly, annoyance tinging his features, and with a glance, Sabia noticed Morrigan looked highly amused.

"The woman parted with it. I admit, I did not expect her to," he said reluctantly. Sabia tilted her head.

"Will you still come with me?" She asked. He nodded.

"I will follow your leadership, then, and atone for my crimes by assisting you in fighting the Darkspawn. Let us go and waste no more time."

Sabia nodded, pleased and set to unlocking the cage. She frowned.

"Good thing I got the key. This lock would have been impossible to pick," she muttered as she forced the rusty lock to open. Alistair boggled at her.

"You would have set him free anyway?" He asked, making Sabia frown.

"We need all the help we can get, and I won't let anyone die as bait to the Darkspawn. It is no death for anyone," she said, frowning as Alistair opened his mouth to retort. "Not even Duncan deserved the death he had. I will concede to that."

This placated Alistair- if only a bit, and he grumbled. Sabia covered her face again and motioned at her company.

"Onward, then. I hope to reach Lake Calenhad within the week. I only want to stop long enough to get Sten a weapon and armor," she said firmly, earning a look of respect from the Qunari.

The six of them headed out, moving back onto the Imperial Highway. Sabia's spirits were raised a bit as they made their way. She had two new allies, and had found covert support from a few people, and had discovered it may not be Loghain who'd put a bounty on their heads, but Howe. Her lip curled as they headed towards the sunset, golden and red light playing on their faces. Howe. She'd see him soon enough. Let the bastard think he'd won. She'd have his head on a pike outside Highever, and would have his spine as a belt soon enough.

"Soon enough," she murmured, her voice cloying with venom. Alistair and Leliana didn't hear, but Sten and Morrigan lifted their brows- Sten in curiosity, Morrigan in a quiet knowing. The six of them were quiet, but it was a comfortable silence as they traveled. Sabia smiled evenly, letting her hood fall back, enjoying the last of the warm sunlight play like fire over her red hair.

Their journey was well on its way.


	5. 3: Whirling Minds

Loghain brought his goblet to his lips, drinking deeply of his wine. His mouth curled bitterly as he tasted the wild berries that Sabia had mentioned at Ostagar. He had no idea if she lived or not. He knew she had lit the beacon, but it had been far too late. He also knew what some would think- he'd seen the look on Cauthrien's face- when he called the retreat. He wouldn't lose his men to the futile fight against the darkspawn. He would have left Ferelden without defenses, and he'd be damned if he'd leave his country with no army to defend her so that the Orlesians could come in and take everything he and Maric had worked so hard for. His heart had ached at seeing the beacon, lit far too late, and it ached even more as he turned away, following his men and leaving Cailan and Sabia to their fates. There had been no saving her.

He shook his head, shaking the thoughts from his head as he poured over his map, mentally tallying all the bannorns and arlings that would come to his aid- and those who would fight him. Teagan was one of them, and he knew his brother Eamon would follow suit. Having Redcliffe against him would be a heavy blow. He put a marker on Redcliffe, narrowing his eyes. His mouth twitched unhappily as he looked over the map, his eyes falling on Highever. Howe's new teyrnir. As if summoned by the thought, Howe seemingly materialized from shadow, his thin weasel-like face curled in a simpering smile. Loghain grunted at him and turned back to his map, drinking another long draught from his goblet. Howe folded his hands behind him and cleared his throat. Loghain turned to look at him.

"What is it, Howe?" He asked. Howe winced at the grating tone.

"My Liege, there is a problem. One of my men returned from Lothering," he began cautiously. Loghain lifted a brow.

"And?" He asked plainly, suspicion rising in his chest. Howe unfolded his hands gestured carelessly, but worry was written on his shrewd face.

"He brought back a report that two of Wardens have survived Ostagar," he said, backing up slightly as Loghain moved forward, his face unreadable.

"And did he bring them in? Where are they? WHO were they?" He demanded. Howe pulled at the collar of the padding under his armor.

"It was Maric's bastard, my Liege."

Loghain drew in a sharp intake of breath. Maric's bastard had been sent into the tower. How by the Maker had he survived? His heart caught, then started again. Did that mean that Sabia had survived? He almost didn't want to ask, but Howe began again, answering the unspoken question.

"There was a woman with him. It's unconfirmed, as the man was delirious from blood loss- the woman sliced open the back of his leg, and slaughtered the other soldiers that he had been with," Howe said, narrowing his eyes. "However, he was adamant that he tell me a message that the woman had given him. This woman said she would wear my spine as a belt, and Maric's bastard said he'd kill you, my Liege."

Loghain closed his eyes, feigning intense thought of the situation, but he was reeling. That could only be Sabia. The rage she'd shown in front of him at Ostagar was matched by the fury of the threat that had been delivered to Howe. It could only be her. He opened his eyes and looked at Howe wryly.

"Was it a promise, Howe?" He asked. Howe blanched.

"He said it was, my Liege."

Loghain chuckled darkly. Only a Cousland would make such a promise. If she was anything like her parents- and he knew she was- she'd keep that promise. Howe cleared his throat again. Loghain turned to look at him, lifting a brow.

"Did the man have any other messages?" He asked. Surely Sabia would not have let the man go without giving him a message to take to the man she'd implored for help. There was a flicker of something in Howe's eyes, something Loghain didn't like, but it was gone before he could analyze it, and he shook his head.

"No, my Liege, but the man was grievously injured. He died after choking out his message to me. The soldier had a festering wound on his leg, it was a marvel he was able to make it back to Denerim at all."

Loghain resisted the urge to curl his lip in disbelief, and let the matter slide. He doubted any message Sabia would have given the man would have been anything than something vague. Howe moved a bit closer, his face etched with urgency.

"They will move against you, my Liege. The Grey Wardens. Many of the nobles still believe them to be good for Ferelden, and will support them if matters are not handled carefully. It will not look good for you in the eyes of the Landsmeet. With your leave, I have arranged for a solution," he said carefully, beckoning.

A svelte figure moved from the shadows, and amber eyes glittered from a tanned face. A smooth smile met the Teyrn's eyes, and Loghain took in the sight of glinting daggers, form fitting leather and heard the clink of vials in the elven man's pouch. He turned his gaze back to Howe, looking at him in disbelief.

"An assassin?" He asked incredulously. Howe looked at him bluntly.

"It will prevent the Wardens from moving against you," he said cautiously. Loghain glared at Howe.

"You remember I want the woman alive, Howe?" he said nastily. A shadow flitted across Howe's face, but he recovered his composure. The elf, however, spoke for him.

"Is the woman that beautiful, my Lord?" He asked curiously, almost leering as he ran a thoughtful hand over his chin.

Loghain glared at his Antivan accent. An Antivan Crow, was it? Foreigners. Dirty foreigners. This was a horrible idea, but he didn't have much choice. The whelp and Sabia had survived the tower, somehow, which could be attributed to the fabled tenacity of the Grey Wardens that was always spoken of in stories. This would require a force that could match their strength, and he couldn't keep tossing able bodied soldiers at them. Never mind that losing squadrons of men to two Wardens was just embarrassing on his part. He glared at the Antivan, his steely blue eyes dangerous.

"She is important. Kill her, or lay a finger on her and you will beg for death, Antivan," he said quietly. "I don't give a whit for the whelp. Just bring the red haired lass to me alive."

The Antivan didn't look impressed by Loghain's threat, and Loghain snorted to himself. If the assassin was a Crow like he suspected, one of the feared shadows from Antiva City, promises of torture were nothing to the man. The elf still had the decency to show respect as he bowed and disappeared from view. Sensing Loghain's foul mood, Howe departed as well, leaving Loghain to his brooding- which was centered around his political problems, Howe, and Sabia. Mostly Howe.

He still didn't know if he could fully trust the man's intentions and methods, but he was still reeling from Howe's accusations- that the Couslands had been traitors to the Crown, in league with Orlais, and had welcomed Duncan into their home, allowing open recruitment for the Order. It didn't seem right to Loghain. The Couslands hated the Wardens as much as he did. Were mistrustful of them as he was. Her father had kept an informal, but cordial relationship with Orlesian nobles, but Loghain had seen the benefit of keeping trade open- it opened a line that extended from Orlais all the way to Gwaren. Gwaren could stand on its own- it had during the occupation of Ferelden and the war against Orlais- but the teyrnir benefited from trade just as well as any other teyrnir or arling would. He knew Howe had raged against Bryce for it, but Loghain had been apathetic to it- Bryce maintained his distance from the nobles he kept contacts with, and his children were raised with a wary opinion of Orlais. Still, to slaughter the Couslands... Sabia's cry floated to the surface of his mind again.

_"... my sister-in-law and my little nephew. Even Lady Landra and her son Daerrin. All slaughtered!"_

Loghain shook his head, gritting his teeth at the conflict. He should have had Howe executed, but the man was powerful, and would keep the nobles from turning on him. He was a general, no politician, and needed all the support he could get. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning as a headache threatened to rise in his forehead. He couldn't trust Howe to keep her alive. He knew the man would say the assassin got out of control, or that his men fought to stay alive. Darkspawn, bandits. So many excuses he could give if Sabia was killed. He set down his goblet and moved to the door, calling over one of his soldiers. The man snapped to attention and strode over to him.

"Yes, my Liege?" He asked. Loghain set his mouth in a firm line.

"The Wardens. You know I have a bounty on their heads," he began. The man nodded, and Loghain struggled to remember his name. Sergeant Mathers, he recalled. One of Cauthrien's favorite sergeants. He could trust this man to actually follow orders.

"The male Warden, I could give a whit about. The woman is the one I want. She's shoulder height, slender. Blood red hair. Emerald eyes, and every inch of her is dangerous. If any of your men see her in the countryside, in a town, or here in Denerim, I want her brought here, unharmed. If you can talk her into coming here, fine. If you have to subdue her to get her here, so be it, but do so with minimal damage. I don't want her harmed," he ordered. The man nodded and saluted Loghain.

"Yes, my Liege. I will inform Ser Cauthrien and the rest of my men immediately."

Loghain watched the man walk off, his hope that Howe's men didn't find her before his did. He also had a wild hope that she'd come to him without having to be apprehended by any soldiers, but he doubted that would happen with the whelp in tow. He just wanted to take her back to Highever, have Anora appoint her as Teyrna, and set things back to a semblance of how things should be. She might be a Warden now, but even with the shortened lifespan, surely she could at least govern her family's teyrnir until Fergus was found. That mean having to deal with Howe, but were he to deal with Howe, it would show he truly did have the best interests of Ferelden on his mind, and he'd garner support. He faltered in his thoughts as he thought about Howe's little web in Amaranthine. Would it make things worse?

Another twinge stabbed in his temple, feeling like a jolt of electricity, and he rubbed his forehead, turning and striding back into the war room. He found himself wondering if an excursion away from Denerim might be a good idea while he sorted his head. Things were a whirlwind here. He needed space to think- to BREATHE. He looked over his map and lifted a brow as his eyes fell on the uncertain area of the Bannorn. He needed to get support from the Bannorn nobles anyway. Perhaps a trip to Lake Calenhad would be a good idea.

..

Sabia panted, her chest heaving, her side slick with blood, hair matted against her neck, her dagger and sword dripping with gore. The older woman raced to the other side of the room, to the side of an elderly man that could only be First Enchanter Irving. Sabia sheathed her weapons and strode over, forcing herself not to wince at the gash in her side. Alistair looked uneasy, and Morrigan was making herself as unapproachable as possible, hiding in the shadows. Sten looked pleased with the outcome of the battle, and Leliana moved to Sabia's side, her blue eyes worried. Avariel echoed her sentiment, whining as he scented his mistress' blood.

"You're hurt, Sabia!" She said, upset. Sabia shrugged.

"The First Enchanter must be seen to first. I'll live."

Wynne turned her eyes to Sabia, noticing her wound. Irving made a face, despite his weakened state, and motioned for Wynne to heal her. Wynne came close and moved her fingers over the gash the pride demon's claws had rent in her flesh. Sabia's face crinkled as the odd feeling of magic knitting her skin washed over her. Wynne looked her wound over, made a satisfied sound, then she and Alistair helped Irving up.

"Are you alright, Irving?" Wynne asked, worry etched in her already wrinkled face. Irving grunted, half in pain, half in exhaustion.

"I'll be fine. Rest is what I need. Thank you, Wynne."

Wynne shook her head.

"I would not have done this without the Wardens' help, Irving. This is Sabia and Alistair, Grey Wardens. They helped, and we cleared the Tower of all the abominations," she said warmly.

Morrigan seemed pleased that she had not been mentioned, and she continued to pace in the shadows. Sabia knew she was longing to change to a raven and flee the Tower. She nodded at her discreetly, giving her permission to do so once the opportunity presented itself. Morrigan smiled gratefully and slunk out into the hall. Sabia turned back to Irving, looking worried. The man looked like he might expire on the way down the stairs.

"Let's get you downstairs, First Enchanter," she said gently. The man laughed dryly.

"Curse whoever decided on placing the Circle in a Tower," he said as they headed downstairs.

Greagoir immediately swooped on them as they made it downstairs. Despite the man's obvious hatred and mistrust of mages, he saw something of a friend in Irving, and was relieved to see him alive. Sabia fixed the Knight Commander with a piercing look.

"Call off the order, Greagoir," she said. "There are no more abominations, and we spared those who weren't. There were CHILDREN in there," she said heatedly.

The templar they'd seen in the cage, Cullen, made a cry of outraged protest.

"No! There are abominations still about the tower! They may seem normal now, but we should still Annul the entire tower!" He roared. Sabia looked at the man with obvious distaste, and Greagoir looked at him in annoyance.

"I am the Knight-Commander here, not you, Cullen. I will go on the Warden's word. We will comb the Tower for survivors. Send the men in," he commanded, supporting Irving's weight. Irving offered Sabia a weak smile.

"I know why you're here, Warden, and you shall have the aid you seek. The magi will come to the call of the Grey once we are rebuilt," he said softly. Greagoir nodded.

"You will have the support of the Templars as well, Warden, as it will take both Magi and Templar to rebuild the Tower. We also can't have the magi running into a fight without us there, now can we, Irving?" He said, his voice turning wry. Irving laughed weakly.

"No, we can't. I imagine we'll be at each other's throats again soon enough."

..

Sabia sighed as Wynne and Morrigan bickered again. The two had been at each other's throats since Wynne discovered Morrigan was an apostate. Morrigan replied to Wynne's patronizing comments with her barbed tongue, and Wynne would be silent, then start anew. Eventually, Sabia had Sten and Leliana stand between them. Wynne kept her thoughts to herself and instead turned her conversation to Alistair. Sabia welcomed this change of pace, keeping quiet herself as they made their way to Redcliffe. She had wanted to simply sail across the lake, but no crafts were coming near the Tower until there was proof it was under control. Sabia had scowled and muttered to herself about the foolish superstition of sailors, but hadn't wasted any time, shouldering her pack and gathering her companions, setting out to make the trek along the lake.

She had worried about Wynne, but the elderly woman had more strength in her than her appearance gave her credit for. Morrigan had been upset at having the healer join them, but Sabia pointed out that a healer would be greatly beneficial, seeing as Morrigan's talents simply didn't lie in the healing arts. Morrigan had snorted, but she reluctantly agreed. Alistair wasn't thrilled about having another mage, but he liked Wynne for all her motherly banter towards him. Sten made a comment about another beast that ought to be collared, but said no more on the subject. Leliana, as ever, was welcoming and warm. Sabia found that despite herself, Leliana was growing on her- especially the woman's singing and stories- the woman had a beautiful voice and wove stories like intricate tapestries, making for a soothing setting at night when the woman would tell stories or sing, her cultured voice warm and comforting.

The spring was unusually warm this time of year, and Sabia felt she would melt under the heat of the sun baking her leather armor. She called the group to a halt and they made an early camp without much argument- even though Sten grunted in disapproval. Sabia slid into the woods with Avariel and Leliana to hunt. Sabia was excellent in tracking, especially with Avariel finding scents that led her to game trails, and Leliana was an excellent shot with her bow. Together they were usually successful in bringing down game for dinner. Tonight, they would be incredibly lucky.

Sabia motioned to Avariel and Leliana to be quiet. Ahead, a young buck was stripping bark from a tree, munching on it happily, sporting a five point rack of antlers. Avariel was quiet, but his body was tense, ready to spring, should the buck flee when the hunt began. Sabia melted into the shadows, moving into the buck's predicted path of escape, laying down a snaring trap. She signaled Leliana as she slid back to their side, and the bard aimed her bow quietly. The buck heard the sinew creak, and he turned his head, ears swiveling. Leliana waited, a true archer, as the buck listened. Detecting no threat, he went back to eating, and the arrow flew. Leliana's aim was true, and hit the buck in the neck. The strong animal still tried to flee, and stumbled blindly into the trap. Avariel lunged and seized the buck's neck in his jaws, giving one good shake, snapping the animal's neck cleanly.

"Excellent, you two. We're a good team!" Sabia exulted, bounding over to the buck. Her eyes were already taking inventory of the deer- armor and weapons could be made from the hide, antlers and bone, the meat could be dried and preserved, sinew could be used as replacement strings for Leliana's bow. An excellent kill. She and Leliana picked up the buck, Avariel supporting the bulk of it on his strong back, his jaws lolling open happily. Leliana patted the Mabari's head, smiling.

"We are lucky to have your Avariel with us. He is a magnificent animal," she said, earning a happy bark from the mabari as they headed back to camp. Sabia squirmed a bit uncomfortably as she sensed Alistair- the blood that bound them as brothers in arms was hard to ignore, a crooning throb in her veins whenever she was near him. It had been the same around Duncan, too, after her Joining. Sten looked up and Sabia swore she saw the flicker of a smile of approval as he saw the deer they brought back. Alistair blinked from where he was setting up the fire, and Morrigan was eyeing the deer's antlers. Wynne emerged from her tent and clapped her hands together.

"Marvelous! I can make something fantastic with venison, and we'll have plenty to dry for our travels!" She said appreciatively. Morrigan let out a bark of laughter.

"It won't be much, what with the appetite of the two Wardens," she said, causing both Alistair and Sabia to grin sheepishly. Both had appetites like starved wolves, and Sabia hated to admit it, but if they weren't careful, the entire buck would be eaten between all of them, most going into her and Alistair's bottomless stomachs. The blood that coursed through their veins was a never ending roar of hunger and fire, and their metabolism made their appetites never ending.

Sten offered to clean and gut the deer, and Sabia offered him her skinning knife gladly- Sten was quick and efficient at cleaning kills. As he set to his task, Morrigan bent over the kill, telling Sten she wanted one of the antlers for her staff. He grunted and nodded in acknowledgement. Satisfied, Morrigan strode back over to her makeshift shelter- she preferred shelters made of foliage and branches compared to tents. Sabia gathered her soaps and her shift.

"Going to take a bath," she announced to no one in particular, striding off. Leliana normally would scramble after her, wanting to gossip as they washed, but she was busy helping Sten pull the arrow from the buck's throat- arrows couldn't be wasted.

Sabia didn't mind the solitude- she relished it. Sliding into the woods and heading for the lake, she hummed to herself, admiring the color of the sunset that had just begun. She slowly peeled her armor off, leaving her daggers in easy reach as she waded into the water. It was still cold from the winter, raising goose flesh over her skin. She submerged herself quickly to get used to the temperature, wading in up to her chest to hide the fact that the cold was affecting her body, still unsure if anyone had followed her. Once she was satisfied by the distance of the thrum in her veins that meant Alistair hadn't followed, she lathered herself up, scrubbing the dirt blood and gore from the day off her skin. She resumed her humming, even growing bold enough to sing out loud. A bath by herself, even if it was in a cold lake instead of a hot bath, was a luxury, and she enjoyed it. She even took the time to wash her hair, submerging herself to rinse off before surfacing and flicking her head back, hair flying in an arc above her, sending water flying in a spray of droplets. Fully clean, she was now used to the chill, and she decided a bit of indulgent swimming wouldn't hurt. There was no one out here to see her, after all.

**..**

What a HORRIBLE day. The Bannorn had all but attacked him, swearing fealty to Eamon, and he had left before things got out of hand. He should have known he wasn't going to be welcomed. He reigned Mercy to a stop, sighting the water's edge. The black stallion snorted, wanting to keep going, having been denied a good gallop all day, but the Teyrn's heels in his flanks made him hold his temper with a reluctant whicker. Loghain wiped the sweat off his brow, eyeing the water almost hungrily. A quick dip would be welcomed before he made the long trek back to Denerim- with a stop at Gwaren planned along the way. His soldiers were waiting a few leagues ahead, having been told to wait so he wouldn't look imposing to the Bannorn. He was glad the Bannorn hadn't attacked with his men not there.

He slid off Mercy's back and tied him loosely to a tree, giving the ill tempered horse some room to graze. He patted the sleek black neck, smirking as Mercy snorted at him. Foul tempered beast, and Loghain was the only man who could reign him in enough to ride him. Suiting steed for him and his own temper. He moved to take his armor off, finding it was a bit cumbersome by himself, but he managed. His armor was soon in a silver pile near his steed, and he made his way to the water, shedding his braise at the shoreline before walking in. The water was cold, and he cursed slightly, but he got used to it quickly enough. He submerged himself, and froze after surfacing, hearing a soft sound a slight distance away. He peered around, and saw a flash of red. His eyes narrowed and he swam a bit closer, trying to keep himself out of sight- not a hard feat with the sun setting, the light in his favor as it was at his back, shining in the eyes of the figure he approached. He blinked as he saw a flash of bare flesh, then his eyes widened as he saw the red hair. His throat tightened. It couldn't be her. Not here.

Yet it was. Leaning back in the water, red hair trailing out behind her as she floated, was Sabia, singing softly to herself- and she was quite unclothed. Loghain's face flushed as he saw her body exposed, the cold evident by the state of her body. He wanted to turn his eyes away, he shouldn't be gazing at the daughter of Bryce Cousland like that, but he found it hard to tear his gaze from her. He had thought the girl was lovely when she was in a dark green gown, but unclothed, she was all soft curves, supple muscle and slender limbs, her pale skin ruddy from the chill of the water, her eyes closed and lips spread in a smile as she enjoyed the moment of perceived solitude.

He waged war inside his head. Should he call out to her? Should he go to her? He wanted nothing more than to crush her against his chest, tell her he was sorry, take her back to Denerim or Gwaren, and shelter her from what she had been pulled into. He couldn't. He had heard from some of the common folk she had taken to traveling with the whelp, an archer, a Chasind woman and a Qunari, of all things. The mabari was a given, and Loghain had been relieved to hear that her faithful hound had survived the attack on Highever. He held his tongue, biting back her name. Her companions would come, and he knew Maric's bastard wouldn't hesitate to strike down a naked man- and him being naked in the water the same time as she was would not make things look any better. He wasn't sure she'd appreciate him stumbling on her while she was nude and had assumed herself alone. He shook his head. No, this was not the time to reach out to her and try to bring her home. If his soldiers were here... he cursed to himself, wishing he'd had his soldiers meet him sooner. He would have been able to bring her back with him then.

Instead, he watched, partially obscured by the gnarled roots of an ancient tree that dipped into the lake over the high bank ages ago to take a drink, as Sabia left the water, dried herself off and pulled on her armor, wringing out her tangled hair. He was torn. He wanted to ensure she was safe, but he'd only get himself killed if he called out to her. He did know he couldn't let Howe know where she was. That was a given. Howe would not know. With that thought, he begrudgingly pulled himself from the water, drying himself off as he watched her disappear into the woods. He pulled his armor back on and hoisted himself back into Mercy's saddle. The stallion snorted, and Loghain heeled him hard, letting the horse rear in excitement before exploding willingly into a gallop, the beast tossing his head exuberantly at being allowed to fly like a black dart down the road. Loghain was quiet, a single thought racing through his head. She was safe. For now. Maker help him, that she stayed that way.

**..**

Sabia turned just past the edges of the trees, hearing the faint clink of armor. Her hackles rose, and she slunk into the shadows, approaching the water again. Again, she wondered at the extent of her hearing, but Alistair had no answer for her. Being a Warden affects everyone differently, he said, save the appetite- everyone got that. She shook the thought from her head, her eyes catching the glint of silver, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was HIM.

"Loghain...," She murmured, sliding out of her stealth, her eyes mournful and conflicted. His hair was wet. Had he just been in the same water she'd just been floating nude in? Her face turned red at the thought. Had he seen her naked in the water like some lewd water sprite? Her blood slowed and came to a sluggish halt as a painful flush crept into her neck as she imagined him looking over her naked curves.

"Maker's breath," she whimpered, trying to subdue the painful heat in her cheeks as she watched him get on his horse. The animal tossed its head and reared, pawing the air with its front hooves before tearing into a gallop, swiftly carrying Loghain away. She felt a pang as she watched him leave, torn between wanting to cry as the man she wanted nothing more than to run to sped away, and admiring the way he looked as he rode expertly on his steed.

"Was he looking for me?" She asked out loud to herself. She slumped to her knees. "What if he was?"

She was alarmed to discover tears were rolling down her face, hot after the cold water she'd swam in. She wiped them off hastily, but she didn't bother explaining to herself the reasons behind her tears. Alistair wasn't here to make excuses to. She could cry if she wanted to, but she hadn't expected seeing Loghain to stir such an emotional response in her. She shook her head. Of course it would. If Fergus was... she refused to finish the thought. Loghain and Fergus were the only ones left who knew her for who she was.

The child who had been scared of thunder when she was eight and spending the week at Gwaren with Anora. The chubby ten year old who had gotten herself stuck in a tree and required Loghain's help getting down. The girl who had smiled brightly as she tried to garner Nathaniel Howe's attention during the holidays before becoming appalled at him for not liking Avariel- who was then a puppy- at age twelve. The young teenager who had flushed, played coy little games and watched a Landsmeet with genuine interest at the age of thirteen. The young woman, almost of age, caught being tutored by Oriana in the art of fighting with swords and daggers at the age of seventeen. The young woman of twenty who threw a snowball in Loghain's face after chasing her family with snowballs, who would later make him laugh as she stood in a vision of indignant silk as she refuted any attraction for Howe's sons. The twenty-two year old, who had been scorned at one of Anora's salons about still being unmarried at her age, looking at Loghain with pleading eyes that begged for rescue as he passed the parlour- the twenty-two year old who had, unbeknownst to her, been suggested as a political marriage for the widower Teyrn of Gwaren- a child bride he had refused, because he believed she could do better. The twenty-five year old who flung herself into her hero's arms, weeping the loss of her family and life as she knew it.

Everyone she had with her now knew her as a Warden, as the orphan and sole survivor of the Couslands. They didn't know who she was before that. They didn't know she'd laughed as Anora commanded the thunder to stop that night before both of them went tearing down the hall in utter terror to the room of Anora's parents, climbing into bed between them, shaking like leaves, Celia and Loghain grumbling good naturedly, then laughing when Anora tattled on the thunder's disobedience. They didn't know how she'd cried when Anora was moved to the palace, meaning that they wouldn't be able to spend as much time together as she spent more time with Cailan. They didn't know that she became more detached from other girls as she and Anora grew apart, delving deeper into sword fighting, and falling in love with war and politics.

Sabia moved to go back to camp and heard Alistair complaining angrily to Wynne about Loghain, and she stopped short of the clearing, crumbling to her knees, stifling her cries as that damned song started in her veins again- the croon of their shared taint calling each other. She wept silently into her hands, wishing she could have called to him, reached out to him and been spirited away on the back of his horse to safety and maybe even normalcy. They didn't know that despite everything, she was faithful to the Hero of River Dane, and that she would give anything to go back to the life she had. They just saw the Warden who had too much thrown on her shoulders. They saw Duncan's last recruit and expected too much of her. They knew her as the leader of the Wardens of Ferelden.

She just wanted to be the ten year old who was teased by Nathaniel. The thirteen year old whose biggest concern was her father embarrassing her in front of Bann Loren by mentioning she was jealous of Daerrin's longsword. The eighteen year old who got caught sneaking brandy into her mother's salon to deal with the boredom. More than anything else though, she wanted to be the twenty year old with burning cheeks, staring at Loghain in horror as he wiped snow off his face, her parents alive, and laughing with bright smiling faces.

She cried, her ribs shaking, and a soft touch made her look up. Morrigan had slunk up behind her, and looked at her curiously. Sabia wiped her eyes, but couldn't stop her silent sobs. Morrigan tilted her head, but said nothing, offering her a handkerchief before moving back into camp, announcing Sabia was fine, and Alistair could quit being a whiny child. Sabia almost stopped crying then, grateful for Morrigan's distraction. She rocked a bit, trying to gather herself, wishing she were home. Wishing she wasn't a Warden. This wasn't what she wanted.

She just wanted to be Sabia Cousland again.

* * *

**AN:**_Thanks so much for the reviews and comments, guys. -Loves- You guys are amazing._

_Also, any mistakes are mine. I posted this on 2 hours of sleep.  
_


	6. 4: Zevran

**AN:** This chapter has a psuedo-non con scene. Read at your own risk- it opens up with it.

* * *

_Sabia screamed as her foot caught on a loose stone, sending her to the ground, her chest aching with the impact. The man leered at her, his already ugly face twisting into a true visage of ugliness and horror. She flailed at him as his hands grabbed her wrists, his weight a deplorable presence near her. His fetid breath was stifling and hot on her face as he bent over her, grinning horribly. Behind him, Duncan was also leering, almost seeming to encourage Rendon Howe as he straddled her hips, tearing at her armor._

_ "You would do well to beg for your life, spitfire," he sneered. "Just like your traitorous, Warden sympathizing mother did before she died."_

_ Sabia screamed, knowing no one could hear her. Duncan simply watched, a horrible grin twisting his face as he folded his arms over his chest, his black eyes devoid of any kindness. She bit and flailed at her attacker, all in vain as Duncan finally MOVED- only to restrain her limbs. Howe smirked._

_ "The Wardens always did have their own agenda, spitfire. We all knew that. This is your father's fault for letting you be conscripted," he cackled, his clammy lips pressing to her neck, a rough palm running down her bared stomach. She screamed in rage, and in frustrated fear, as no one would hear. No one would help._

_ "Sabia, I tried. I really tried. There was nothing I could do," said a voice. A rich baritone voice, thick with the gravel of regret. She lifted her head, tears pouring down her cheeks, and there he was, chained to one of the pillars. He strained against the chains, but was unable to move._

_ "Loghain! Please! Please help me!" She begged, trying to writhe away from the horrors of what Howe was doing to her. His eyes bore into her, his expression pained, and he looked away, unable to move. She cried, sobbing with enough violence to make her ribs heave._

_ "LOGHAIN!" She screamed._

"LOGHAIN!" Sabia screamed, waking herself as she sat up inside her tent, the blanket falling to her lap.

Outside her tent, someone paused. From the sound of their step, it was Leliana. She heard Alistair muttering to himself, and Wynne scolding him. Avariel barged into the tent, his muzzle crinkled in worry for his mistress. Sabia held her arms out to the mabari, tears still pouring down her cheeks, and Avariel practically tackled her in order to nuzzle into her arms, licking the tears off her face. She cried softly, wrapping her arms around the dog's furry neck, burying her face in his warm shoulder. The faithful hound whined and rubbed the side of his head against her shoulder, letting his mistress vent her emotions. She stopped eventually, and she pulled back to earn a kiss from Avariel. She smiled weakly and rubbed his ears before hugging him again.

"I'm a lucky woman to have the best mabari in all of Ferelden," she murmured, Avariel agreeing whole-heartedly. She pulled back and began putting on her smalls, gambeson and then her armor. She splashed some water on her face from her water skin, then strode from her tent. Leliana gave her a concerned glance, but didn't say anything. She did move to help buckle the last few straps of her armor, though, earning a smile from the Warden.

"Thank you, Leliana," she murmured, running her fingers through her disheveled curls. Leliana tilted her head, blue eyes imploring.

"If you need to talk, I am here, Sabia," she said softly, putting her hands on Sabia's shoulder comfortingly.

Sabia nodded, but her eyes were already locking with Morrigan's. If there was anyone who could help, it was the enigmatic apostate who had offered nothing but a soft touch and a handkerchief a few nights ago as she hid in the woods and sobbed. Though Wynne didn't trust her, and Alistair hated her, Morrigan was slowly becoming Sabia's closest friend within this odd little brigade they were collecting. Morrigan already knew- she gave a hint of a nod before going back to packing her things. She knew Sabia would want to talk later. She set to packing up her tent, shoving things into her pack. Her heels ached, and she found herself wishing for a horse- not for the first time. Bodan Feddic waved to her, and she was envious of his wagon and the stout pack horse he had pulling it. She waved back, sauntering over, an idea in her head. The dwarf looked at her expectantly.

"Morning, Bodan, Sandal," she said, smiling at the boy.

"ENCHANTMENT!" The boy exclaimed brightly, his eyes almost as wide as his smile. Sabia chuckled in spite of the horrible night, then turned her attention to Bodan.

"You boys have been following us for some time now," she said carefully. Bodan nodded.

"That we are. We make our rounds while you fine folk travel, but we stay close enough to provide you with supplies at the end of the night when you make camp," he replied, just as evenly, smelling a deal about to be made, and he was right. Sabia shifted her weight to a hip.

"Seeing as that's the case, can I convince you to carry the supplies we don't need immediately in your wagon? Extra tents, blankets and such. You'd be paid of course," she said. Bodan nodded, smiling.

"Of course, my Lady. We'd be happy to help, but there's no need for the payment. Having a safe place for me and the boy to sleep at night is more than enough."

Sabia cocked her head.

"Are you sure?" She asked, and Bodan nodded, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

"Just make sure no one else is enchantin' your weapons, or m'boy here will be awful sore," he teased. Sabia laughed, and Sandal looked delighted.

"Enchantment!" He beamed, bouncing on his toes. Sabia reached out and squeezed the lad's shoulder, smiling at him.

"If you insist, Bodan. Thank you."

She turned to her companions, waving.

"Guys, load the extra supplies in the back of wagon! Ser Feddic is being most gracious and letting us keep them with him!" She called.

Alistair and Sten looked a bit relieved at this change of events, and moved to load the tents and extra supplies into the wagon. Sabia double checked the pouch on her hips, ensuring her poisons were all secured, then strapped her sword and dagger to her back, her throwing knives and extra daggers already hidden in her boots and strapped to her thighs. She shouldered her pack, and they set off, Redcliffe their destination. Morrigan strode up next to her, her staff freshly adorned with one of the antlers from the stag, bones dangling from the pronged horn, tied with strips of leather, fur wrapped about the shaft near the top. Sabia admired the handiwork before Morrigan cleared her throat.

"Are you alright? You were screaming," the mage asked quietly, her sharp yellow eyes flicking to Leliana and Alistair, who were speaking of their experiences with the Chantry. She was ignoring Sten, who was stoically silent as per usual, bringing up the rear with the war dog at his side. Avariel was looking up at Sten happily, pink tongue lolling out in a doggy smile. Thinking no one was looking, Sten offered the mabari a respectful nod, and Avariel barked once in happiness. Sabia supressed a smile, then turned her gaze back to Morrigan as she bit her lip, her eyes wide.

"I just... I wanted to thank you, Morrigan," she said quietly. Morrigan cocked her head.

"For what?" She asked, taken aback.

"For pulling me from that nightmare in the Fade... for saving me," Sabia said, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Morrigan made a soft sound of exasperation.

"You have never been in the Fade before while in a semi lucid state. You are no mage, and didn't know what to expect. Tis nothing to thank me for," she said, obviously awkward. Sabia frowned, her brow crinkling.

"It felt real to me. They were both there... and he was... and HE was, but he couldn't... ," she trailed off, her voice choking. Morrigan hesitated, but put a hand on Sabia's shoulder, her hand light on the leather armor, and her face made it clear she was obviously uncomfortable with the contact.

"The demon knew what to do to make you hurt," she said simply. "It couldn't get to me, as I am a frequent visitor to the Fade, and a most stubborn woman- a frustration to demons, tis true."

Her gaze softened slightly and she withdrew her hand.

"That does not say your mind is weak. It simply says that the happy dreams the others had would not be enough to trap you. You would not be fooled by your parents being alive. The demon had to torment you to keep you trapped, as it did with the old woman. You are too strong willed to be seduced into simple complacency- it had to shock you, to frighten you into submission," she said, turning her lupine eyes back to the road, falling silent.

Her words made Sabia think hard on the reality of her statement and she took a measure of comfort from them. It was true. Had she seen her parents, or had it simply been Loghain or Fergus there, she would have known it was a dream. She had SEEN Loghain ride away. She hadn't seen Fergus since he went to Ostagar. Her parents were gone. What better way to torment her than to have the two men she hated most violating her and hurting her while the man she admired was helpless to stop them? She'd been so horrified and paralyzed by what was happening, she couldn't register in her mind that she had seen Loghain ride away. All she could do was scream as Howe and Duncan overwhelmed her. If Morrigan hadn't come when she did... She shuddered, trying to shove the unpleasant thoughts away and stifle the sob that threatened to erupt from her throat. As though she could sense her distress, Leliana turned to look at her.

"Are you alright, Sabia?" She asked, brow furrowing. Alistair snorted.

"She had a nightmare about Teyrn Loghain. Someone didn't get enough sleep, that's for sure," he said dryly. Sabia ground her teeth audibly, jaw clenching as she narrowed her eyes and balling her fists, resisting the urge to pull him to the side of the road and trounce him.

"I dreamt about how your idol dragged me away from my dying father, conscripting me and tearing me from the arms of my mother, leaving her and my father to die at the mercy of merciless men. I dreamt how I begged Loghain to save me, but I was forced to drink darkspawn blood anyway because Duncan likes poaching heirs to teyrnirs," she said acidly. Alistair's face reddened, and his chest puffed out as he took a breath to retort, and she turned her head, pointedly ignoring him.

"Say what you want, Alistair. I will never say Duncan was a good man for what he did to me. Contrary to what HE said, I HAD options. He just took them away from me," she snapped, ending the conversation before it turned into another shouting match. Alistair glared darkly at her and turned his eyes back to the road. Sabia rolled her shoulders in annoyance and widened her eyes as she felt the heavy tome shift in her pack- she'd almost forgotten about her find in Irving's office; she'd slipped the book from the chest into her bags while the others searched for signs of the First Enchanter. She slipped her pack off her shoulders, never stopping as she pulled the book out.

"Morrigan," she said simply, pushing the tome at her. Morrigan took in a sharp breath.

"Is this...," she began, and she opened it, thumbing through the pages delicately, as though afraid the book would dissipate beneath her fingers. "It is... it's Flemeth's grimoire!"

She looked into Sabia's eyes, looking genuinely touched. Sabia offered her the smallest smile before looking back at the road, shouldering her pack again. She knew Morrigan would not want a fuss to be made over this. Morrigan gave her a genuine smile and continued looking through the pages, not needing to focus on the road.

"This is... thank you, Sabia. Who knows what I will learn from this!"

...

Sabia frowned as she saw a figure running towards them, and she called a halt. The party stopped, Leliana ceasing her pleasing song, Morrigan putting away the grimoire. A woman, disheveled and ragged, hair matted and face haggard, was running towards them with desperation. Panic was in her eyes, and Sabia reached out as the woman nearly staggered against her, catching her. She was out of breath, her chest heaving.

"Thank the Maker!" She cried. "Bandits attacked our wagon! We were just trying to escape to Redcliffe, and we were overwhelmed!"

Sabia rubbed the woman's shoulder, trying to calm her down.

"Shhh, it's okay. Is everyone alright? What can we do? Are the bandits still there?" She asked urgently.

"They left, but we need help, my family is gravely injured! Please help my husband!" The woman wailed. Wynne frowned.

"Let's make haste. I can heal the injured," she said hastily.

"Sten, can you carry the poor woman? Until we get to their wagon?" Sabia pleaded. Sten sighed in annoyance, but picked the woman up, breaking into a run as the group moved down the road. The wagon came into sight, and Sten set the woman down, looking affronted that he'd had to carry her in the first place.

"They're this way, please, hurry!" She cried.

They came upon the wagon, and Sabia felt a sense of WRONG in her gut as the woman's pace changed drastically- the woman was now sauntering instead of the desperate tread she'd had before. A figure slid from behind the wagon, and his amber eyes glittered at her. Sabia stopped. An Antivan. She knew enough about them from Oriana to know how to recognize one. With his tanned skin and the elegant, yet arrogant way he held himself, there was no doubt as to where he was from- he had the same cultured stance Oriana had when Sabia first met her so many years ago. Tears stung her eyes at the thought of her lost sister-in-law, and she pushed the thought from her mind, focusing on the situation. She narrowed her eyes, and her sharp ears picked up the sound of wood creaking. She whipped her head up to see a tree on the bank of land above them start to lean dangerously.

"Move!" She cried, the group scattering in time to avoid being smashed by the falling tree. As she rolled to her feet, she saw the elf pull out twin daggers, and the woman was conjuring lightning in her hands as men and women in leather began appearing from behind foliage and the remains of the wagon. Sabia snarled and drew her sword and dagger, sliding into a defensive stance. The elf motioned with a hand.

"Remember to keep the redhead alive! Kill the rest! They all die here!" He shouted, his voice thick with an Antivan accent. Sabia was already judging and analyzing the situation. Without a thought, orders flew from her lips.

"Leliana, the archers! Alistair, the mage! Wynne, watch for injuries!" She shouted. "Avariel, KILL! Morrigan, you know what to do! Sten, flank the melee!"

With the orders given, her party moved, clashing with the enemy. All hell broke loose.

Sabia lunged straight for the elf, stabbing his shoulder to disable his main hand. He hissed, dropping his dagger, but his off hand swung the pommel of his dagger into her ribs. With a grunt, she fell back, but she used her own backward momentum to swing her leg up and out, catching him in the stomach with her foot. The assassin grunted and doubled over, trying to swing at her before falling to his knees, his swing aimed at her lower legs for a low blow. He was trying to impede her, cripple her enough to capture her. She rolled, but the dagger still caught her left calf. Sabia let out a shriek of rage and kicked the man with her bloody leg, her good leg supporting her weight, and she delivered the kick right to his jaw. The elven man let out a cry of pain and fell, unconscious. Sabia felt a tingle rush through her wounded leg- Wynne was healing her. Renewed, she joined the fray once more.

Sten let loose a deafening shout, swinging his sword with force enough to knock two of the leather clad henchmen to their backs, and with a single well aimed blow, he slashed them open, and they did not rise again. Alistair was draining the mana of the mage, and when he was sure Morrigan wasn't in range- which she knew well enough not to be- he smote the woman, knocking her to the ground before aiming one final blow, merciful as he always was. Leliana had already landed well aimed shots on two of the archers, felling them, and was finishing off the last one, the bow singing. Morrigan had conjured a nightmare upon two of their foes, and the men were fighting each other in a haze of horror induced madness, the mage watching with her head cocked, arms folded over her chest as she laughed. Avariel lunged at one of the befuddled men, tearing at his throat as he overwhelmed him. With their foes taken care of, Sabia made sure her party was healed up before moving to the assassin she'd knocked unconscious. Alistair drew his sword, moving to kill the man, but Sabia stopped him.

"No, Alistair. Let's get information from him first," she said carefully. "Wynne, can you revive him?"

Wynne nodded and waved her hands over the man, who stirred with a groan.

"I, what... oh," he muttered, looking up at the people surrounding him. "I had preferred I would wake up dead... or not wake up at all as the case may be."

Sabia pushed him on his back with her foot to his chest, leaning over him and putting her sword to his throat. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Who hired you, assassin?" She asked dangerously. The man held up his hands in compliance.

"A rather taciturn man at the capital agreed to sending me out. Teyrn Loghain, I believe it was. Surly man, looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, permanent scowl on his face and a voice that sounded like gravel," the elf said, his eyes never moving from hers. Alistair snorted.

"That's Loghain alright," he said dryly. Sabia ignored him and shoved her sword closer, nicking elf's skin, blood trickling down the blade. The man winced a bit.

"I didn't ask who agreed to the contract, assassin," she said nastily. "Or should I say, Antivan Crow? I asked who HIRED you."

The elf cocked his head as best he could with a sword at his neck.

"You know of the Crows, then," he said simply. Sabia narrowed her eyes further.

"My deceased sister-in-law was Antivan. Of course I know of the Crows. If I flip you over and cut your armor, will I find wings tattooed on your back?" She snarled. The elf laughed.

"If you wish to strip me, my lovely spitfire, be my guest."

Sabia hissed and whipped her dagger out, gashing his arm open, earning a stifled grunt of pain.

"Don't. Call. Me. That. EVER," she hissed. Howe had called her that many times, always with a badly concealed sneer and a lewd tone that curdled her stomach contents, and usually when he spoke of her marrying one of his deplorable sons and received her barbed, but honey coated replies. The man winced again.

"My apologies, my captor," he said quietly. Sabia glared at him.

"I'm asking again. Who HIRED you?" She asked, and Alistair made a frustrated gesture.

"We KNOW already! Loghain! What else could he tell you? Loghain hired him, we kill him, we move on," he said in exasperation. Sabia ignored him, her eyes cutting into the assassin, who flicked his eyes at Alistair before looking at Sabia again.

"I hate to disappoint your adamant friend there, but Loghain merely agreed to hiring me. It was not he who contracted me from Antiva. It was a foul, oily looking man with an equally foul, oily voice," he said lightly. Sabia's eyes lit up in triumphant rage, and Alistair looked taken aback.

"I knew it. I told Howe to do better," she said, then laughed, a harsh grating derisive sound in the back of her throat. "And this is the best he could do? Really? I'll DESTROY him!"

She pulled back, looking at the assassin.

"I've learned all I need to know, Antivan," she said. He looked up at her, something whirling behind his cultured amber eyes.

"Then, might I make a proposal?" He asked. Sabia cocked her head, pausing as she moved to lick blood from a cut on her arm. The man's eyes never moved from hers, watching as blood trickled off her tongue and down her chin.

"I am Zevran, Zev to my friends, and seeing as I failed to kill you, according to the Crows, my life is forfeit. Thing is, I like living. Fond of it, really. Seeing as you bested me, and I am one of the best of the Crows, you would make the Crows hesitate to attack you again," he said. Sabia lifted a brow.

"And? What is this alluding to?" She asked dryly, licking up the last of her blood before folding her arms over her chest. Zevran tilted his head, smiling coyly.

"Surely you could have use of an experienced rogue like myself..." he said, lifting a brow. Sabia snorted.

"In case you didn't notice, Antivan," she drawled, not using his name- it made things personal. "I am all the rogue we need. I am proficient in poisons, swords and combat. You couldn't beat me, why would I have use of you?"

The man tutted, smiling.

"These things you say. They must drive your male companions wild!" He said wryly. Alistair snorted.

"Wild? No. More like nuts," he said, glancing at Sabia, who ignored him as per usual, but she noticed his anger was softened a bit. She rolled her shoulder, giving a look that told him he had better come up with something to offer before she killed him. He caught her unspoken message and his face grew serious.

"You are formidable, there is no questioning this, but you are not a rogue of stealth and shadow. I can offer that hidden finesse. I can also keep an ear to the ground and help divert any further contracted attempts from the Crows," he said. Sabia snorted derisively.

"And then when we make camp, you poison my food, or slide behind me in the shadows as I bathe, slipping a dagger between my ribs?" She snarled. "You must think I'm ROYALLY stupid. What's to stop you from trying again?"

"I think you're royally hard to kill, and utterly gorgeous," Zevran said, tilting his head. Sabia lifted a skeptical brow.

"Flirting? Truly? You would try to woo me as you lay on the ground after trying to kill me?" She asked incredulously. He made a face.

"I say so because it is true. I appreciate the beauty of any person, so I state it as such. Your archer and the enchantress you have with you are equally beautiful. Even your matronly healer is attractive in her own right," he said with a frown, sounding like he was stating something obvious she shouldn't have missed. Sabia snorted.

"An odd time to remark on someone's physical appearance, but never mind that. Say I spare your life. How loyal are you? What would stop you from trying to assassinate me again?" She inquired, shifting her weight. He cocked his head.

"You are not stupid. Nor am I. You have handled a group that was set on your capture and death. I would be a fool to try to attack you, skilled as you are, and with such impressive companions. I also happen to be quite loyal- until I am expected to die for failure, of course, but couldn't that be said of anyone?"

Sabia couldn't argue with that, and she hesitated. Sensing a break in her anger, he pressed forward.

"I could even stand around and look pretty if you want. Fend off unwanted suitors? Act as a second shadow that doubles as a bodyguard? Warm your bed?" He said slyly, smirking. Sabia ground her heel into his chest a bit, scowling.

"I need no man to protect my honor, Crow. If there were ever unwanted suitors, they are no more, and I certainly do NOT need any bed warming," she growled between bared teeth. Zevran chuckled.

"You remind me of a dragoness. Beautiful, but ever so deadly," he said off-handedly, but then grew serious again. "I truly do not wish to die, and this would be a chance to have a life doing something else besides killing. This life is all I have ever known, and I would gladly be free of it by pledging my loyalty to you. I'll even polish armor if it comes down to it- I did used to live near a tannery, and I know a thing or two about leather."

Sabia lifted a brow at the compliment, but she softened a bit at his comment- if only slightly. She removed her foot from his chest and helped him up- but not before taking his daggers. He blinked.

"So are you to kill me then?" He asked. Sabia narrowed her eyes a bit.

"Where you to report back to Loghain?" She asked. He shook his head.

"I would have gone back to Antiva, had I succeeded, and Loghain would have been informed- or rather, Howe would have been informed of my success. I assume you threaten their power. Politics, yes?"

Sabia rolled her shoulder again.

"You could say that. Did Loghain say he wanted us dead?" She asked. Alistair rolled his eyes.

"Of course he did. Why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to, Sabia?" He complained. Zevran snorted.

"Again, your hastily angry friend is incorrect. I was told to keep the dragoness here alive, and bring her directly to Loghain. Howe tried to convince me to kill her after being briefed by the Teyrn, but I was thinking it would not be wise to anger this Loghain. I was going to bring you to him, unharmed. He was QUITE persistent in making sure I understood to bring you back alive- and untouched. Shame, really," he said, smiling. Sabia cuffed him.

"Enough comments on my body, assassin. Do you speak the truth? Did Loghain really demand I be taken alive?" He nodded.

"He was VERY angry when I asked if you were beautiful. His words were, if I recall correctly, 'She is important. Kill her, or lay a finger on her and you will beg for death,'" he said, rubbing his head where she cuffed him. Sabia couldn't stop the smile that spread over her face.

"Good enough, then," she said. Everyone blinked.

"Wait, what's happening here?" Alistair asked. Sabia turned to look at him.

"He's coming with us," she declared, handing the man his weapons back. Zevran sheathed the daggers and held out his hand. Sabia took it and he shook it firmly, clasping his other hand over hers.

"I then swear an oath of loyalty to you. I am your man without reserve until you see it fit to release me, this I swear," he said honestly, his eyes looking at Sabia sincerely. Sabia nodded.

"Welcome to our group, then, Zevran. I am glad to have more support," she said evenly. Alistair and Morrigan boggled at her.

"I strongly recommend checking your food and keeping your water skins close at hand from now on," she said dryly, narrowing her eyes. Zevran laughed.

"God advice for anyone!" He chortled. Alistair scowled darkly.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Taking the assassin with us?" He asked in disbelief. Sabia cocked her head.

"And what, you think it a better idea to let him go?" She asked, earning another scowl.

"We could just, I don't know, KILL HIM," came the curt reply. Sabia snorted.

"I'd prefer to use Howe's assassin to help us. We need allies, and I will take what help is offered. Besides, having a Crow on our side will make Howe think twice about trying to come after us again," she said tersely, but her expression was neutral. Alistair sighed and threw up his hands.

"Fine, I see your point. Doesn't mean I'll trust him, though."

Leliana nodded, looking like she approved, and Sten simply grunted, apparently apathetic to the whole thing. Wynne cocked her head.

"It is good to keep foes where you can see them, and I am pleased you were merciful," she said.

Sabia said nothing, but mentally rolled her eyes at Wynne's comment, not in the mood for her righteousness. She rolled her shoulders and picked up her discarded pack, then cast her eyes to her group and cocked her head.

"Well? Shall we get going then?" She asked.

Everyone picked up their packs and began following her down the road. Leliana pulled a small lute from her pack and began singing softly, Morrigan went back to reading her tome, and Wynne pulled out- much to Sabia's bemused amazement- knitting needles and yarn. She shook her head as the mage knitted efficiently as they made their way down the road. She was collecting quite the odd group, but they each had their strengths. Hopefully it would be enough to face Howe, pull Loghain out of this civil war that was brewing, and then rally the people of Ferelden to fight the Darkspawn. Surely this group could put aside differences and work together to be an example to Ferelden.

"So... I was not aware we had such a beautiful bard in the group. Such a lovely songbird. Do you sing in the sheets as well?" Came Zevran's purring voice.

The sound of a smack rang through the air, and Zevran fell quiet. Everyone turned to see Zevran with a red mark on his cheek, and Leliana looking affronted. Sabia laughed and turned her attention back to the road, her spirits rising. Maybe they COULD do this.

After all, they were sorting differences out already.


	7. 5: Blood and Politics

Redcliffe loomed into view, the castle of Arl Eamon looking over the village almost protectively, casting its shadow over the red cliffs that gave the area its name. Sabia sighed, shifting her pack and stopping to arch her back in an attempt to get it to pop. They'd pushed the last leg of their trip, and she was looking forward to a bed and a decent meal- maybe even a bath with hot water if she was lucky. She wasn't looking forward to dealing with Eamon, especially since she knew he would be just as adamant against Loghain as Alistair was- not to mention she had no desire to deal with his simpering wife, Isolde.

"Sabia, can I talk to you?" Alistair said suddenly, breaking her from her reverie. She turned to face him, her expression curious, but she felt a sense of apprehension. She really didn't want another shouting match with him- the past day had actually been pleasant, and she didn't want to spoil it. He pulled her aside from the rest of the group.

"Sabia, remember how I mentioned Arl Eamon had raised me and that it was rumored I was his son?" He asked, his brow furrowing. Sabia nodded, her mind whirling quickly as it switched into gear for politics- something a Cousland mind was raised to do. He hesitated, seeing the glint in her eye, and she forced her expression to go neutral, despite her quickly calculating mind ready to seize on anything that might be useful.

"The thing is, my mother was a servant girl, but my father was NOT Arl Eamon. I was sent to Redcliffe because...," he trailed off, finding this difficult. Sabia was patient, letting him bring it into the open on his own. She didn't want to provoke him, not before heading into the den of lions that were the Guerrins. Alistair sighed.

"My father was King Maric," he said finally, and Sabia's mind stuttered to a halt, her eyes blinking.

"I... what?" She asked incredulously. He rolled his shoulder in agitation.

"I'm the king's bastard. There, I've said it, let's move on," he said hastily, turning to go. Sabia snatched at his arm gently, pulling him back.

"Wait. Why didn't you tell me this?" She asked, examining him in a new light. She wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. The same easy going face, the same facial structure, even the same sense of humor as Cailan- and Maric, if her faulty early childhood memories served her correctly. Her tone was gentle, and Alistair gave her a pathetic look.

"Because I was always coddled, that's why. Even Duncan kept me from battle," he said plaintively. Sabia dropped her hand from his arm, biting her lip.

"Does Loghain know?" She asked, waiting for the explosion from him. It didn't come, Alistair simply sighed.

"Most likely. He was my father's best friend and all," he grumbled. Sabia tilted her head.

"Why did you hide this from me?" She asked, but instantly regretted the question as Alistair's gaze grew hard.

"I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that you still think Loghain didn't betray us," he said acidly, and Sabia had the grace to wince, wondering why Loghain would want Maric's son dead. Was he afraid Alistair would try to overthrow Anora and kill her? That had to be it. Loghain would do whatever it took to protect his daughter, she thought. She met Alistair's eyes.

"Well, I know now, but it won't make a difference to me. You're still Alistair," she said simply. Alistair snorted, and his expression remained hard, even though Sabia had expected it to soften.

"And you're still crazy," he replied. Sabia didn't even blink. She knew what he thought of her, and she didn't care. He sighed and motioned at the rest of the group.

"Let's go then, shall we?"

Sabia nodded silently and followed him towards the bridge leading into Redcliffe, but her mind was a roar of ideas- none of them pleasant as she realized Eamon was going to take advantage of this situation, and she was hopelessly outnumbered.

...

The village was a right state after the battle. The group hadn't expected to find the village under siege by the living dead, but it had. Corpses had shambled from the castle and into the village, intent on killing all in their path. Sabia and her group fought them until daybreak, when the sun shone on their victory. Gore and corpses littered the ground, but thanks to Wynne's healing, and the combat prowess of their group, none of the dead were villagers. Bann Teagan presented them as heroes, and requested that Sabia come meet him at the windmill.

"You'd think no one was in the castle, with how quiet it is," Teagan remarked as the group approached them. Sabia had them stand back a bit, only Alistair coming with her to talk to Teagan. He turned to face her, his eyes taking in the sight of her. Sabia didn't waver under his scrutiny- they both knew this was no time to think about how the two of them had almost been married. He cleared his throat.

"We need to go to the castle and see if Eamon and his family still live. We need to get to the bottom of all this- Maker's breath!"

They turned to see a woman in fine silk running to meet them, a guard at her side. Sabia suppressed the snarl that threatened to curl on her lips as she recognized Isolde. Teagan ran to her, embracing her.

"Isolde! I'd worried that no one was left alive!" He said. Isolde pulled back, and her face was etched with what looked like weeks of worry and sleepless nights.

"Teagan, thank the Maker you yet live! I need you to come to the castle with me, Teagan," she said hurriedly, looking at the group. "Alone."

Sabia tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, and even Alistair looked suspicious.

"Alone. That sounds safe, I'm sure," Sabia drawled dryly. Isolde looked her angrily.

"Who is this woman, Teagan?" She asked, her Orlesian accent very thick in her anger. Sabia bristled and the snarl she was fighting finally broke loose on her lips.

"This woman? You speak to the last surviving Cousland, and future Teyrna of Highever!" Sabia hissed. "You mind your betters and shut your disrespectful Orlesian whore mouth, or I'll do it for you!"

"Sabia! Have you no manners?" Alistair said angrily, and even Teagan looked affronted. Leliana looked offended at the comment, but Zevran and Morrigan snorted in amusement- Morrigan was even grinning widely. Isolde turned to Alistair, her look going from being indignantly cowed to snide.

"Of all the... what are YOU doing here, Alistair?" She said in an ugly tone. Alistair scowled and looked at Sabia- almost apologetically, she thought.

"On second thought... never mind. How... nice to see you, too, Lady Isolde," he said lightly. Isolde turned back to Sabia, false apologies on her face.

"Forgive me, my Lady... I had heard the Couslands were all dead. I did not know you were the Teyrna now," she said, her voice not convincing Sabia. Alistair rolled his eyes.

"She's not Teyrna. Grey Wardens can't hold titles," he said. Sabia flicked her gaze to Alistair, her eyes glinting maliciously.

"Oh? Then I won't have to worry about what you told me earlier, will I?" She shot back, her sharp tongue leaving a cut he'd feel for a while- he winced, much to her triumph. Her mind was whirling at this admission of information from Alistair. That definitely would come in handy, should Eamon try to push Alistair on the throne- and she knew he would. Eamon had never been a supporter of having a Mac Tir on the throne, and Alistair, as naive as he was, would be the perfect puppet. She stored this away in her mind for later and turned her attention back to Teagan.

"Surely this is a trap. You cannot go alone. We need to go in there and find out what's going on," she said, folding her arms under her breasts, rolling her shoulders back and standing straight to send a message to Isolde that she wasn't going to tell Sabia no and succeed at it. Isolde thought otherwise, however.

"No, I promised, for Connor's sake, that I would only bring back Teagan. Please, you have to honor this request!" She pleaded, her voice sincere this time. Sabia lifted an arched brow and shifted her weight.

"Why so? What's going on in the castle? There's something you're not telling us. What are you hiding?" she asked evenly. Isolde glared at her.

"That is a rather impertinent question. This is a family affair that is none of your concern," she said testily. Sabia snorted.

"Your husband owes his allegiance to the Grey Wardens in time of a Blight, and seeing as there are corpses walking out every night and terrorizing your village, it's more than a family affair," she retorted nastily. "You can hardly be ignorant of the walking dead pouring forth from your castle in the evening, unless you are hiding something."

Isolde's face went pale and blank, and she stammered a few times before falling silent. Alistair sighed.

"Lady Isolde, the Grey Wardens protect the people against the Darkspawn, but we are obligated to help in any time of strife. We are guardians; it's what we do. We can't help if we don't know what's going on," he said gently. Isolde ignored him completely and turned back to Teagan, her eyes pleading. Sabia bristled angrily. She may not LIKE Alistair, but the Orlesian had no right to ignore him like that.

"We're going," she announced heatedly, turning to go. Teagan blinked at her, and Alistair's eyes widened.

"WHAT? We are NOT leaving!" He insisted. Sabia snarled as she turned to face him.

"You have eyes and ears as well as I, Alistair. We're obviously not wanted nor needed here. We saved the village. Let whatever's running amok in the castle run its course, and we'll come back later. I won't BEG a fool to be allowed to solve problems that aren't mine. We could have been to Orzammar and back by now, with the dwarves' allegiance," she spat angrily. "Hell, we could have found the Dalish by now. Let's go. This fool woman wants to ignore help, then so be it."

She turned on her heel and shoulder her pack, striding off. Sten and Morrigan exchanged impressed expressions, and Zevran was chuckling to himself. Wynne and Leliana stayed rooted to the spot where Alistair stood. Alistair folded his arms over his chest and waited for Sabia to realize he wasn't following. Sabia turned and lifted an eyebrow. Alistair met her cold emerald gaze defiantly. She kept her expression cool, lifting a brow.

"So. Going to wait out here in the cold then? Be my guest,' she said. Wynne made a pleading gesture.

"Sabia, these people need help. We cannot leave," she said softly. Leliana nodded in agreement.

"What if there are children in there?" She asked. Sabia snorted.

"Then she is all the more fool for ignoring help when it is offered. Your affairs cease being private when you have undead spilling from your castle. It only raises my suspicion that she won't let us help," she countered. Sten nodded in agreement.

"If the woman wants to have a single man handle the problem, let her have her wish. Our efforts are better being used elsewhere," he said in his flat neutral tone. Morrigan leaned on her staff, frowning.

"I agree. Tis her own problem if she thinks one man can fix this. Let us be off so we can find the Dalish or seek the aid of the Dwarves. Tis a foolish thing to waste any more time here. There IS a Blight going on after all," she said dryly, rolling her eyes. "Why IS it people think a Blight is the most opportune time to kill each other?"

Teagan strode over to Sabia and came close to whisper in her ear. Sabia almost balked at his closeness, but kept her composure.

"Take this ring," he whispered, taking her hand to look like he was pleading with her while slipping a signet ring into her palm. "It opens a secret passage that runs to the castle. I will go inside with Isolde, and you and your companions will be able to sneak in, should I need help," he murmured. Sabia sighed, feigning reluctant agreement, then nodded.

"I knew you were smarter than that, Teagan," she said softly, her lips almost brushing his ear. The Bann flushed, and he headed back to Isolde.

"They are going to wait in the village and restock their supplies. I will go with you, Isolde," he said. Isolde looked on the verge of tears.

"Thank you, Teagan!" She wailed. "Let us not waste any time!"

Sabia watched them go, her eyes shooting daggers at the Orlesian's back, her lip curled in a hideous snarl. Alistair looked at her apprehensively, and as soon as they were out of sight, Sabia strode to the windmill.

"Come on. Teagan give me way into the castle. He's a smarter man than people give him credit for," she said simply, brushing straw on the floor aside to reveal a door with an odd lock. Sten scowled.

"So we are to waste time on this woman's plight, and are to sneak in to do so?" He asked. Sabia nodded, shooting him her own scowl to show him that she disapproved of this as much as he did. Sten snorted, but said nothing.

"Thank you, Sabia," Alistair said quietly. "Eamon and his family mean a lot to me. They did raise me."

Sabia gave a derisive snort of her own.

"I'm doing this so we can get the aid we need. Eamon is necessary. His wife means nothing to me, even more so after how she thinks she's better than me," she growled. Alistair frowned, his face darkening.

"Don't tell me you hate Orlesians, too," he spat. "I swear, you and Loghain should have married or something, what with the way you two think."

Sabia's face went bright red, and she whirled around to face Alistair.

"You shut your mouth right now. Don't speak of matters you know nothing of. I don't have to explain myself to you, of all people."

She turned on her heel, pulling out her dagger and sword, gouging the walls as she stormed down the tunnel, leaving Alistair standing there, his eyes wide and unblinking. Leliana shook her head and Zevran snickered in appreciation, muttering something good naturedly in Antivan.

"That was not wise, Alistair. She is a noble. There are politics at work here you don't know of, and you most likely brushed an exposed nerve. I wouldn't mention such things again," she said softly so Sabia wouldn't hear. Alistair blinked finally and looked at Leliana.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Nobility often end up in political or arranged marriages, like Queen Anora and King Cailan, or King Maric and Queen Rowan. Most likely, Sabia had an arranged marriage waiting for her and becoming a Warden and losing her family ended it," Leliana responded quietly. Alistair blinked again.

"Surely she would want OUT of that," he said incredulously. Morrigan lifted a brow and Zevran chuckled.

"Not if her intended was a fine specimen, or a powerful one," he said simply. "You're a man. You saw how Teagan looked at her when we entered the Chantry. I know I did."

Alistair rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. He had. When they entered the Chantry where the Bann was defending the villagers, his eyes had immediately flicked to Sabia, lighting up in disbelief and pleasure, and the two knew each other. Was it possible that Sabia had been pre-contracted to Teagan? He shook his head. No, she had made her dislike for Eamon clear, why would she marry his brother? Unless she didn't want to, but she had shown only kindness and warmth to Teagan. Perhaps he had been an option. Alistair's mouth curled slightly, disgust roiling in his stomach as the thought hit him- Teagan could have been out ranked by someone else. Someone like Howe, pushing for one of his sons... or even Loghain.

"You... you don't think she was pre-contracted to LOGHAIN, do you?" He whispered to Leliana, who shrugged.

"It would make sense, seeing her defensiveness over him, but she hasn't spoken of him in the way one would speak of their fiancé. She speaks of him like someone would of their hero or family friend- which Loghain was, if I'm not mistaken of my knowledge of the noble families. The Mac Tirs were close with the Couslands," she said. Alistair nodded, remembering Loghain's reaction when he'd found out Sabia was to be recruited. He hadn't been close enough to be involved in that altercation, but he'd definitely heard the Teyrn's enraged bellows from where he'd been, and had seen the rage on his face as he accused Duncan of all sorts of things.

"No, I don't think so, either. He would have been much angrier and louder if she was his intended. He confronted Duncan about her becoming a Warden, and he was loud enough to frighten the Chantry Sisters. If she HAD been his fiancé, I think he would have leveled the ruins," he said, his eyes watching as Morrigan strode ahead to walk at the side of Sabia and Avariel. Leliana cocked her head, and Zevran shook his head.

"It would explain why he wanted me to keep her alive and brought to him, though," he put in thoughtfully. "Perhaps her father had asked Loghain to protect her if something happened to him or her mother. Definitely a common practice amongst nobility."

"Do you think Duncan would have relinquished her, had she been promised to the Teyrn?" She asked. Alistair shrugged, but he felt a twinge of discomfort in his gut. He knew the answer, and it didn't set right with him- despite his hatred for Loghain, and his confusing dislike for Sabia. He knew Duncan wouldn't have released her. He would have made the Teyrn's intended a Warden, and for some reason, this didn't set well with him.

"I... I don't know," he lied. "I know Wardens have the right to Conscript those they need, but were it me, I wouldn't have taken a man's wife from him."

Leliana nodded, satisfied with the answer, then looked over her shoulder to smile at Wynne and Sten who lingered at the back of the group. Wynne nodded, not even looking up from the rapidly growing cloak she was knitting. Leliana giggled at the woman's task.

"So," Morrigan asked quietly as Sabia sheathed her weapons and moved to stroke Avariel's ears. "I take it there are politics at work here."

Sabia nodded, her eyes focused at the tunnel ahead, and Avariel rubbed his cheek against her hip, begging for more petting. She smiled a bit, running her fingers through the canine's thick grey fur. Morrigan eyed the mabari. His snout was slightly longer than the average mabari's, his coat thicker and longer, and the hound actually had a longer tail with thick fur on it. She looked back at Sabia.

"He's not a purebred Mabari, is he?" She asked. Sabia jerked at the sudden change of subject, but her demeanor softened as the talk turned to her dog. She nodded.

"He's not. His grand-sire was a wolf. The breeder's apprentice lost the dam, and when she came back, she'd taken with pup by a lone wolf. Most of the pups were given away, as they weren't pure bred, but he kept one to see how the combination would fare. That female ended up breeding, and he didn't think the pups would be good enough for a noble, and he thought about putting them down. My father, who had been looking for a Mabari to give me for my tenth birthday, liked the look of them, and brought home Avariel for me. He's not purebred, but he has a fierceness that rivals a purebred. If anyone ever so much LOOKED at me oddly, Avariel would be on guard. It's how I knew Thomas, Howe's boy, was a man not to be trusted- Avariel would never let him come near me," she explained, the dog looking at her with adoration. She rubbed his ears lovingly.

"I don't care if he's not purebred. He's the best dog in all Thedas," she crooned, earning a happy whine from Avariel. Morrigan nodded in approval.

"He certainly is formidable. It's the wolf in him, I should think," she said. "I still think that he should stop putting half eaten hares in my pack."

Sabia snickered and nodded in return, and Morrigan cocked her head.

"You should ignore the idiot templar," she said bluntly, making Sabia blink. "He was raised in the Chantry, was he not? He knows nothing of your world."

Sabia ground her teeth.

"Then he shouldn't speak of what he doesn't know. He has no idea what it's like to be constantly surrounded by politics, to be immersed in them to the point where you're dancing to an unseen melody whenever other nobles come to call, or when you go to Denerim. He doesn't know our world, so he should shut his mouth about it," she said heatedly. "He doesn't KNOW me, or my life before this."

Morrigan nodded, eyes fixed on the end of the tunnel.

"I don't think he'll be inclined to make that mistake again. The bard and I spoke to him. The assassin might have put in a few copper's worth of words as well."

Sabia was silent, her fingers rubbing her Mabari's ears, and her eyes were pained. Morrigan cocked her head in her bird like way, and Sabia was reminded of a crow as she did so- the same curious intelligence and wild beauty was in her expressive eyes. She knew Morrigan was going to ask her a blunt but curiosity laden question, but she knew that it would be alright with the mage if she didn't answer right away.

"You had an arrangement, didn't you?" Morrigan asked, not surprising Sabia with the bluntness of her inquiry. Sabia nodded.

"When I turned twenty-two, quite a few noble ladies began to whisper that something must be wrong with me, seeing as I wasn't married and still living at Highever, even though I wasn't the heir to the teyrnir. I actually had to verbally fight Bann Esmerelle off me at one of Anora's salons. She asked if I was infertile, if that was the reason I hadn't been married off," she said, her lip curling at the mention of Howe's closest associate.

"Words travels faster than the swiftest horse. When I came home to Highever from Denerim, I swore I'd not go back to Anora's court unless she desperately needed me, and Father pulled me aside. He said he'd been searching for potential matches for me, because the flapping tongues of the women were contagious, and their husbands were talking, too."

Morrigan made a small sound of disgust.

"Marriage, children. Why do nobles think it such a necessity? I prefer my freedom," she quipped. Sabia nodded in agreement.

"I was happy being a bachelorette. I wanted to be a lieutenant in Loghain's forces, or a personal bodyguard for Anora. I wouldn't have minded being Teyrna of Highever, as I was raised to do such, but that was to fall to Fergus as eldest. Father sympathized with me, and who could blame him? I was his youngest pup, and it pained him to see me married off and sent from home. He knew I couldn't stay home forever, though, and he started looking for a husband for me, seeing as I never fooled around with the other nobility, and had not developed any interest in anyone," she said, her eyes not even looking at the tunnel anymore- they were looking in the past.

"Bann Loren's son, Dairren, was mentioned. He was intelligent and handsome, but useless with a weapon. Bann Teagan was considered, as was one of the sons of the Bann from Waking Sea and Dragon's Peak. Howe, of course, pushed Thomas and Nathaniel at Father as well. None of them were good enough for Father, save Teagan. He considered Teagan a long time, but without warning, he set it aside. He set all the proposals aside."

Sabia bit her lip, and Morrigan cocked her head again.

"I take it you never found out why," she said simply. Sabia nodded.

"It's been three years since then, and no other offers were made. Father stopped looking, but I heard whispers that I was no longer on the market. I was spoken for, so to speak. A year after the contracts were looked at, the whispers stopped, and I was back to being referred as the 'willing spinster'. Not that I cared. I was happy where I was, if a bit uncertain about what I wanted to do. I don't know what happened to make father cease his search for a husband for me, but frankly, I don't care," she said, her tone indicating that the conversation was over.

The group filed in closer together, apprehension and silence settling over all of them. They'd reached the end of the tunnel. Sabia glanced at all of them.

"Let's go, then."

...

Sabia flicked gore off her weapons, looking to see if Ser Perth and his men were unharmed. Receiving an affirming nod, she and the knights headed to the front gates of the castle. The main door had been sealed off, so they'd had to sneak through the cellar and into the courtyard- encountering undead and a missing girl they'd promised to find, who had fled home through the safety of the tunnel, as well as a blood mage.

The blood mage and Wynne knew each other- as was to be expected with how small and closely knit the Circle was, and Wynne told Sabia he'd broken his phylactery and escaped the Tower using blood magic. Sabia could care less- she only questioned him when he mentioned that he'd been hired by Loghain to poison Eamon. She'd had to fight a smirk of amusement- Eamon had moved against Anora before, it almost seemed fitting he was poisoned. However, the mage- Jowan- revealed that the Arl's son was a budding mage, and could have torn the Veil. Sabia rolled her shoulder in disgust as she thought about Isolde's selfishness. Her desire to keep her child to herself was harming everyone around her.

Even though Wynne and Alistair had protested it greatly, Sabia didn't see the point of the mage being locked up. He'd been tortured, and was obviously starving, left for dead in the cells. After giving him some food and water, she had unlocked his cell and told him to flee- but not before telling him that if he ran into to Loghain again, to give him word that she was alive. An argument had broken out- Alistair and Wynne had been furious, Sten thought her foolish. Morrigan had agreed with Sabia, and Zevran and Leliana were only neutral to stay out of the argument.

As the group entered the main hall, they were greeted by the sight of Teagan dancing madly, performing acrobatics that Sabia knew Teagan hadn't been capable of before. A young boy clapped as he watched, but the smile on his face was not that of an entertained child- it was shadowed with malicious glee that a child's innocence was not capable of mustering. Teagan stopped as they approached, and scrambled to the boy's side. Sabia flicked her eyes to Isolde standing nearby, her shoulders slumped in agonizing defeat. She felt a hot flush of pleasure spread in her chest at the woman's expression, unable to hide her condescending smirk.

"Well, well well. Looks like I was right. You were hiding something," she said, stopping a few feet away from Isolde, putting a hand on her hip. Isolde looked too upset to even challenge why she was there.

"Please. I do not want anyone to be hurt. Just turn and go," she pleaded. Sabia lifted a brow.

"And leave Teagan the way he is? I think not," she retorted. The boy shot her a dirty look.

"I don't recall giving either of you women permission to speak!" He said, and there was a malevolent, dark and harsh undertone beneath the young boy's voice. Sabia blinked, and Wynne and Morrigan both hissed.

"Abomination, how lovely," Morrigan said dryly. Wynne was livid.

"You... you let your son become an abomination? You KNEW your son was a mage and did not send him to the Circle for training? Do you know what you have done to your son?" She demanded, her eyes wide. Isolde let out a plaintive cry, but did not speak. The boy glared at them.

"I can't see it very well, Mother. What is it?" He asked, his tone demanding an answer. Isolde looked on the verge of tears.

"This... is a woman, Connor. Like I am," she said hesitantly. Connor sneered.

"Lies! She is younger than you, prettier, too! I am surprised you don't have her executed out of jealousy and spite!" He cackled. Isolde fell to her knees, begging.

"Connor, please, do not hurt anyone else!" She cried. Teagan cackled madly from the floor where he sat.

"MARMALAAADDDEEEE!" He bellowed, rocking back and laughing. Connor glared at him.

"Quiet, Uncle! What did I tell you about yelling!" He snapped, and Teagan fell silent. Sabia looked at Teagan in horror.

"What have you done to him?" She asked incredulously, eyes wide. Connor smirked.

"I like him better this way. No more pathetic demands. He won't tell me to do anything ever again," he said slyly. Teagan cackled again.

"Nobody tells HIM what to do! NOBODY! HA HA HA HA HA!"

Sabia narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at Wynne.

"There's nothing to do to fix him, is there? The boy, I mean. Obviously, if the demon is gone, Teagan will go back to normal, and the dead will stop rising, right?"

Wynne shifted uncomfortably.

"The boy is an abomination. His inexperience in magic has torn the Veil and he was seduced by the promises of a demon," she said hesitantly.

The boy glared at Wynne.

"It was a fair deal! Father is safe from the poison, and lives! IT WAS A FAIR DEAL!" He roared, bolting from the room.

Isolde fell to her knees, screeching sobs coming from her throat.

"Please, Warden, save my boy!" She cried. Sabia fought to hide her snarl. She felt no pity for this woman and what her selfishness had wrought. She turned to Wynne and Morrigan, who looked back at her- Wynne with worry and apprehension, Morrigan with slightly guarded indifference.

"Is there anything we can do? I could give a whit for the selfishness of one woman who thinks she is above Fereldan law, but...," she trailed off. Morrigan shook her head.

"Tis the reason discipline is needed for mages. Demons would eat you alive if you did not have it," she said airily. Wynne snorted.

"Yes, because a woman in the Wilds teaches PERFECT discipline by playing bait and switch with Templars in the woods," she snapped. Morrigan laughed.

"It worked better than your training- I have had freedom all my life, and I am not an Abomination, am I?" She replied snidely, a smirk on her faces. "And your Circle had quite enough of them running amok. Such an education I have missed, truly!"

Sabia snapped her fingers, distracting them from the cat fight that surely would have erupted.

"This is neither the time or place to argue over such. The boy is already possessed, and no lack of training is to blame, it's his mother's selfishness. What I ask is if there is anything that can be done," she said, feeling smug with every wince that came from Isolde. Wynne and Morrigan both shook their heads, and Alistair looked pained.

"The thought of killing a child... I...," he began, then cut off. He cleared his throat. "If he's an abomination, there's nothing we can do."

Wynne nodded sadly, and Morrigan simply gave Sabia a look that spoke her piece on the matter. There was nothing that could be done. Isolde threw herself at Sabia's feet, screaming and crying. Sabia pulled back, trying to keep the look of disgust off her face, ignoring the murmurs from Ser Perth and his men. She practically recoiled at the lack of composure from the woman who thought herself Sabia's better.

"Please! There must be something you can do! Don't kill my baby! You are a woman, surely you would not kill your own son! Surely you would fight for him!" She cried.

Sabia fought the urge to kick the woman in the face as her words made a stab run through her belly, through the womb that would never carry a child. She hissed, Isolde looking up at her in surprise.

"Don't talk to ME about what I would do with my own children, woman," she spat. "If I were ever blessed enough to have a child, I wouldn't risk losing him to a demon. Better he be safe being trained by someone who knew what they were doing, rather than have him kill helpless villagers. The comfort of one mother and her child does not warrant the lives of countless others!"

Isolde blinked through her tears.

"You would sacrifice your child, then? What kind of woman are you?" She screamed. Sabia yanked her up by the front of her dress, forcing her face close to hers.

"YOU did this woman. NOT me. Don't you DARE compare yourself to me. I'll never be mother, but if I had a child hurting innocent people and had no way to stop him, I would make the right choice. THIS is YOUR fault, not mine. You brought this on yourself."

Isolde pushed herself back, scrambling from Sabia.

"NO! You won't hurt him! You'll not touch my boy!" She screeched. Sabia looked at her companions in exasperation.

"What do we do?" She asked. Morrigan snorted.

"Kill the demon. Tis the only recourse," she said. Sten nodded.

"This is why my people keep mages on leashes," he said curtly. Wynne looked crushed.

"I cannot think of anything else to do," she said sorrowfully. Alistair nodded in defeat, saying nothing. Sabia sighed and moved in the direction that Connor had run. The knights didn't follow, trying to restrain the madly giggling Teagan. Isolde followed them into the next room and rushed at Sabia, balling her fists.

"NO! YOU WILL NOT HURT MY BABY!" She wailed. Sabia lifted a brow as Isolde flung her fists at her back. She sighed again, and lifted her lip in warning, Avariel growling his own warning.

"Woman, stop that," she said, her voice dripping with threat. Isolde ignored her, banging her fists uselessly against Sabia's leather armor. Sabia let out a heavy breath of exasperation and drew back her fist. She let her fist fly, connecting with Isolde's jaw, knocking her out cold. Alistair and Leliana looked at her in horror,

"You just knocked out Eamon's WIFE!" Alistair cried. Sabia growled.

"She was only making this difficult. Be glad she hadn't pulled a weapon on me, or I would have killed her in self defense, if Avariel hadn't done it first. Let us find the child and be done with it. I am not eager to kill a child, but we must think of the other lives at stake," she said, heading up the corridor.

They searched the castle for hours, but the boy was nowhere to be found. Sabia was about to scream in frustration, when they finally cornered him in the study of Eamon's quarters. Sabia approached him cautiously, and the boy looked at her with wide eyes.

"You should go before the angry lady comes back," he said, and the undertone in his voice was gone. "She doesn't like anyone coming up here. She'll hurt you, and I don't want to see anyone else get hurt. Please, go!"

Sabia blinked, taken aback by the boys plaintive plea.

"Hon, do you mean the demon?" She asked. He nodded.

"She came to me while I was dreaming. She pushed her way in, and I couldn't stop her. She promised to save Father, and he didn't die from the sickness. She makes me hurt people though, makes them do bad things. I don't want to hurt people anymore. I want it to stop!" He cried, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Wynne moved to hug him, wrapping him in her arms.

"You poor child. You poor child," she said softly, her voice choked with tears.

Sabia turned to see Isolde in the doorway. She narrowed her eyes.

"Do you not hear your son?" She spat. Connor looked at his mother imploringly.

"Please, mother. Don't let me hurt anyone again. I don't want you or Uncle to be next. I can't stop the angry lady anymore!" He cried. "It hurts when she makes me do things. It hurts when she's inside me. Please, Mother, make it stop hurting!"

Wynne pulled back and Isolde crushed Connor to her chest. She shook as she cried silently, and Sabia was quiet, waiting to see what Isolde would do. The woman pulled a dagger from her belt, and Connor convulsed.

"Mother... she... she's coming! It hurts, Mother! It hurts so much!"

Isolde kissed his forehead.

"Mother will make the pain stop, Connor," she choked out. "I'll make it stop."

She slid the dagger between his ribs, and he fell slack in her arms, eyes closing. A shriek of anger, pain and rage sounded in the room as the demon's link to the mortal world was severed, and it was only rivalled by the sounds that came from Isolde's throat as she held her son's body to her chest. Sabia turned silently, leaving to room to leave the mother to grieve in private. Alistair glared at her as the rest of them filed quietly out of the room, Zevran shutting the door behind them.

...

Teagan regarded Sabia carefully, and she met his gaze evenly. He let out a quavering sigh and ran his hands over his face.

"And it's over... I... I wish there was something we could do, but..." He trailed off. "You did what had to be done. Maker knows I couldn't have done it."

Sabia shook her head.

"I didn't. Isolde did it. I would have done it if she didn't, but she did. I know you must think me a monster, but it had to be done," she said softly.

Teagan drew closer, and she flinched almost invisibly, but said nothing as Teagan embraced her.

"You did what had to be done. I do not begrudge you that. I hate to admit it, but it was Isolde's selfishness that brought this on. It could have been prevented," he said, pulling back before the hug grew awkward- something Sabia silently thanked him for. They stood looking at each other quietly, before Teagan turned away, looking at the door that closed off Eamon's room.

"The fact remains that Eamon is still comatose, and we need his voice to rally against Loghain," he said. Sabia made a soft noise.

"You, too, huh?" She asked, her lips pursing. Teagan scowled.

"Sabia, he ABANDONED Cailan's men," he said heatedly. "He labeled you as outlaws. Surely you don't SYMPATHIZE with him?"

"I was Conscripted, Teagan. I didn't WANT to be a Warden. I was Conscripted right out from under my parents and forced from Highever before their blood even ran cold. Loghain tried to plead on my behalf to have me released, but Duncan refused to let me go. I didn't want ANY of this. I wanted to find Fergus and retake my home. Who knows what Howe is doing to it, or what lies he's spreading about our family!" Her voice had started out calm, but rose in pitch and anger with each syllable.

"The Tower of Ishal was overrun by Darkspawn, from tunnels below. We had to fight an OGRE to get to the beacon. By the time we had lit it, it was most likely too late. Loghain is defensive of this country, but he won't send men to their deaths if he can prevent it. If he'd sent his men in, they would have gone to their doom, and would have left Ferelden defenseless. You know just as well as I do that Loghain would never leave this country defenseless, not with our freedom only so recently won from Orlais. He did what he thought was right for our country."

"And what of Cailan? Did he do what was right for Cailan?" Teagan retorted angrily. Sabia narrowed her eyes in a mixture of pain and anger.

"I was there when the plans were laid out. Loghain kept trying to tell Cailan to stay back, and not be on the front lines, that it was foolish and dangerous. Cailan wanted to be a king from a fairy tale, fighting at the front lines and charging to victory. If he'd listened to Loghain, he might have been able to be saved. His own obsession with glory and tall tales were what killed him, Teagan," Sabia said. "No one could save Cailan at that point. Not even the Wardens, seeing as Duncan died as well. There were just too many Darkspawn."

Teagan looked away, and Sabia realized with a pang, that he might not just be mourning Cailan's loss as a nephew- he and Eamon probably were feeling the loss of their connection to the throne, and probably were wondering at their fate with the Landsmeet with the Mac Tir family having hold of the crown. She made another impatient sound softly in her throat.

"You never struck me as a very political man, Teagan," she said quietly. Teagan scowled.

"I'm not, but now that my brother lies ill, I have no choice but to be involved, don't it?" He said bitterly. Sabia sighed and looked at Eamon as he lay there, dead to the world.

"How are we supposed to bring him back?" She asked.

"The Urn of Sacred Ashes," Isolde said hoarsely, coming into the room. "The Ashes of the Maker's Bride and Prophet will restore him."

Sabia blinked.

"Are we sure it even exists?" She asked incredulously. Teagan cocked his head.

"Isolde sponsored a scholar by the name of Brother Genetivi. He had made some progress in his research and believed he had a lead as to their location," he said. Sabia made a small sound of disbelief.

"The ashes. Truly?" She asked. Isolde nodded.

"He is in Denerim."

Sabia blanched.

"If his allegations are true, I will be happy to help find these ashes," she began, and Isolde gave her a genuine, albeit pained and watery smile.

"I thank you for your willingness to help my husband," she said. Sabia held up a hand.

"However. You said DENERIM? I doubt I can waltz into the city without being apprehended by the guards and taken into Howe's custody, where I would be slain on the spot. Surely there is some way to contact him and have him meet me elsewhere. It's too risky. I have a price of five hundred sovereigns on my head!" She said.

Isolde and Teagan's eyes went wide.

"FIVE HUNDRED sovereigns?" Teagan repeated incredulously. "That's a ridiculous amount of gold for your death!"

"No. That's Loghain's reward for bringing me back alive. HOWE, however, would not need that money, and would slay me on the spot," Sabia said, frowning. Teagan looked at her as though seeing something about her for the first time.

"Loghain wants you alive? I see... so then..."

Sabia blinked.

"Then what?" She asked, confused. Teagan blinked and shook his head.

"It's nothing, my Lady. I'd... heard rumors that he took your family's death hard. He- he did promise your father that he'd protect you if something happened to him, did he not?" He said, and his tone seemed hasty to Sabia. She narrowed her eyes slightly, but said nothing, merely nodding. He straightened himself up and cleared his throat, only furthering Sabia's suspicion that something was up. She pushed the thought aside. Her business would not be aired in front of Isolde- not if she could help it.

"Back to the matter at hand. Is there any way to contact this scholar and have him meet me outside of Denerim?" She asked. Isolde frowned.

"I have not heard from him in weeks. I fear his messages are being intercepted," she admitted. Sabia huffed.

"Lovely. Howe's doing, no doubt. Looks like I have no choice? Looks like we have to go to Denerim. Maker help me," she said in exasperation. "I will go. However, I will leave this warning."

Teagan blinked.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"If I find the Dalish on the way to Denerim, I will make a detour to remind them of their obligation to the Wardens. There is a Blight coming, and I need all the help I can get. I have yet to see hide or hair of the Dalish, so if I do find them, I won't squander the opportunity," she said carefully. Teagan nodded, and Isolde nodded as well- if a bit reluctantly.

"He is comatose, but stable for now. Go and make haste," he said, following her from the room. His tone warmed a bit, his eyes softening into an unreadable expression. "And... be careful."

Sabia paused, examining his face carefully before she nodded and pulled her cloak on, drawing the hood before sweeping from the room.

...

"So let me get this straight. We are going on a quest to find ashes of a dead woman- ashes that may not exist?" Sten asked in disbelief as they made camp. Sabia snorted as she focused on her task, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Believe me, Sten. I do NOT like this idea any more than you do, but Eamon is the only one who has the authority to call a Landsmeet- the only one who WILL and isn't cowed by the current power holder," she replied, eyeing the stitches she was sewing into Alistair's shoulder. Alistair winced as the needle and thread moved through his skin, but he remained still- and quiet. He knew better than to evoke the wrath of the woman sewing a gash in his flesh shut. Zevran, however, was not being sewn together by Sabia's steady hands, so he felt no need to make the comment Alistair left unsaid.

"You mean Loghain," he said simply. Sabia narrowed her eyes further as she carefully slid the needle through the skin again, eliciting another hiss from Alistair.

"No. I mean Rendon Howe, the bastard who hired you. Anora is queen, but Loghain is her regent, and he is not a politician. Howe, unfortunately, is, and will be feeding Loghain all sorts of poison, whispered in his ear," she said, pausing to wipe blood from the stitches. Alistair gritted his teeth and she made a soothing sound, grinning at how much of a baby he was being over a few stitches.

"Loghain is paranoid over keeping Orlais out of Ferelden, and Howe is no doubt drawing on that to bend Loghain to his will. It would not surprise me if he made a reach for the throne himself by offering one of his sons as a new husband for Anora. This is my theory, of course, but seeing as the man slaughtered my family, it would not surprise me if that is what he planned," she concluded, tightening the stitches gently and tying them off. She pulled out some salve and rubbed it on the stitches tenderly before wrapping Alistair's shoulder with clean bandages. Alistair rolled it tentatively and blinked.

"Thank you, Sabia," he said, taken by surprise. "I didn't know you were skilled at first aid."

Sabia nodded and tucked her supplies away.

"Skill learned from my mother. One doesn't always have a healer available," she said simply, looking at Wynne with worry, her brow crinkling. Wynne was sleeping soundly in her tent, the flaps open in the warm air. They'd been attacked by a group of darkspawn that had them completely outnumbered and overwhelmed, and Wynne had passed out after over exerting herself. Sabia had urged them to stop and make camp, and had seen to it that Wynne was comfortable. Though her patronizing could get grating, the woman was useful, and had a good heart. Sabia wouldn't take chances with her health.

"I'm glad. You were far more gentle than I thought you were going to be," Alistair said, putting his gambeson back on. Sabia snickered.

"I try," she said, then turned to face Zevran. "We're heading to Denerim. Everyone will stay outside the city limits. You, Morrigan and I will be going inside to seek out the scholar Teagan mentioned," she said.

"What? Why? Why should we stay outside?" Alistair protested. Sabia set her mouth in a firm line.

"Because Morrigan can change into a crow, and Zevran and I can sneak past the guards. We have a bounty on our heads and Howe's men seek our deaths. We have to be covert about this. Denerim is dangerous- it's a dragon's den, and Howe and Loghain are the dragons that would eat us," she said sternly.

"So you're finally admitting Loghain is dangerous," Alistair said wryly, giving her a sidelong smile. Sabia snorted, trying to keep the ire from the sound. Alistair was on a dangerous middle ground between pleasant and angry, and she didn't want to argue like they HAD been all day.

"He's always been dangerous. He picked well when he chose the wyvern to be the heraldry for Gwaren, as I've known him to be as dangerous- and quick tempered- as one since I was a girl and first spent a week at Gwaren at Anora's side. He's dangerous when what he loves and strives to protect are threatened. He's more dangerous now because Howe has sank his fangs into him and injected him with his poison," Sabia said heatedly, shuddering with rage. "I can't wait to kill that treacherous bastard."

"So you sneak in, talk to Genetivi, then what? We go seek out this Urn? A myth?" Morrigan asked. Sabia shrugged.

"It is not high on my priorities at the given moment. I will be seeking out the Dalish, and if we traverse that way, we will go to Orzammar as well. Our allies are more important. I'll not waste time," she replied, pulling out some deathroot and a concentrator agent, preparing to make poisons. Sten and Morrigan exchanged equally exasperated looks, but were quiet. Sabia was quiet as she brewed her deadly concoction- Zevran had taught her to make Quiet Death, and she enjoyed the effects it had on foes, so she tried to keep a decent stock.

"If it comes to it, I will go underground and find those who are loyal to us. If I can find at least a handful of nobles willing to support my claim as the heir of Highever, I can call the Landsmeet myself- I do outrank Eamon, after all," she said, not tearing her eyes from her task. Alistair blinked.

"You would be that desperate to call the Landsmeet?" He asked. Sabia held up a vial of the Quiet Death, making a purr of satisfaction as she saw it was clear as water, swirling the poison in its vial before sealing it with wax. She looked at Alistair seriously after putting the vial in the pouch on her belt.

"Loghain is being poisoned by Howe. The quicker we get to him and kill that snake, the quicker I can get the poison out, and maybe once he's cured, we can work together to save Ferelden."

Alistair huffed.

"He won't work with us. You know this, Sabia," he insisted. Sabia cocked her head.

"He will listen to what I have to say, Alistair. Trust me on this. I'm practically family," she said gently. Alistair fumed at her.

"Trust you? You made Lady Isolde KILL her own SON! How can I TRUST you?" He raged. Sabia sighed. So now that she was no longer sewing him up, he finally unleashed his wrath. She let him hiss and spit like an ally cat as he ranted and paced by the fire. After he'd ranted, he stood just out of reach, his chest heaving as he glared at her. Sabia eyed him coolly.

"Are you quite done yet?" She asked. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, he was so taken aback by her lack of remorse. Sabia lifted a brow then went back taking inventory of her poison ingredients, ignoring him. She didn't have to explain anything to him, she owed him nothing. He was there, and they'd already had this argument earlier. He knew Wynne had said there was nothing that could be done. Sabia had a nagging suspicion that the blood mage might have known a way- it would have been messy, no doubt, but he might have known- but there was no use crying over an apostate she released. She packed her things back up and moved to the edge of camp, sheathing her weapons, Avariel sidling up next to her.

"If you're done, I'll take first watch tonight. I'd suggest you all sleep. I intend to press hard to Denerim over the next few days," she announced. Zevran and Leliana mumbled, but Sten nodded in approval. Morrigan shrugged apathetically and wandered over to her shelter. Alistair glared at her before retreating into his tent. Sabia sighed to herself, scratching Avariel's ears as she stared at her surroundings. She halfway wished something would pick a fight with her, she was shaking with suppressed anger. Maybe she would get the fight she wanted in Denerim.


End file.
